


Officious (EXTRAS)

by composedchaos



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Deleted Scenes, F/M, Kylo Ren PoV, Switched POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14049063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/composedchaos/pseuds/composedchaos
Summary: The story of "Officious" expanded. Featuring scenes in Kylo Ren's POV, scenes that were deleted (with more fluff, more angst, more smut,) glance inside Agent 2319's past before Snoke's assignment, one-shots, and scenes that I have written, then switched out for other scenes.A gift to anyone who has read/commented/bookmarked/kudos-ed/created art for/supports Officious!





	1. Meditations and Aggravations (Kylo Ren POV)

**Author's Note:**

> POV: Kylo Ren  
> Time: Chapter 10, The Knights of Ren Pt. 2

Kylo Ren was good at many things and he knew this full well. Meditation, however, was not one of them. Especially under the most recent circumstances. 

He wondered if The Supreme Leader was trying to drive him absolutely mad. If assigning this Agent to follow his every move, operate in his shadow, was just a test to see if his impatience and rage would get the best of him. Rage is a key component of the dark side. Was Snoke trying to pull this emotion from him? If that were his intentions, it certainly is working. 

As Kylo stomped away, down the halls the Korriban palace, he couldn’t help but feel insecurity strike at him. How is he supposed to lead the Knights, his own followers (some, far older than him) when he’s this unfocused? Will they be able to see his inadequacies, inadequacies Agent 2319 brings out? That’s how she so easily affects him. How she’s able to make him feel humiliated, even if it’s just the two of them inside a room together. It’s infuriating.

But then, other times, she’s considerably bearable. Maybe even tolerable. No one would dare humiliate him. As everyone that Ren meets projects fear, projects terror, she’s quiet. Ren has to instigate any sign of emotion out of her, and even then, it’s never anything resembling trepidation others harbor for him. It’s something more like motivation. Stubbornness, sometimes even irritation. She can’t be stupid enough to ignore how dangerous it is to project irritation towards The Master of The Knights of Ren. So what is it? What’s her deal?

With a frustrated huff, he swings open the doors to the meditation room to find Eerson Ren sitting on the mat, legs crossed, patiently waiting for consolation. Kylo Ren sighs, standing up straighter. He can do this. He’s Master of the Knights of Ren, Heir to Darth Vader. He can handle a meditation session without looking like a child, without being distracted by some girl with no more personality than what the Order engineered her to harbor.

Kylo Ren takes a deep breath then thanks the Force for giving him this opportunity, to focus on training his Knights, and only focus on his Knights, rather than be continually pestered by the Agent. It’s freedom. 

He sits across from Eerson, studying his still tense state. Eerson Ren has been behind in his training, due to anxieties, but Kylo doesn’t see this as a problem. Merely an obstacle. Besides, if Kylo has been able to overcome his own mental demons to get to where he is, Eerson can do it too. Kylo truly believes that. Out of all the Knights, Kylo sees himself most in Eerson. Maybe it is Eerson’s unwillingness to let go of the life he led before coming here. Maybe it’s Eerson’s fear of failure. Kylo tries his best to ignore those parts of himself when he’s with Eerson, for both of their sakes.

Kylo says, voice low as he kneels. “Have you made improvements?”

“I’m unsure, Master.” Eerson admits, honestly. “My mind has felt so cluttered with memories I can’t seem to erase.”

“Your past is behind you, Eerson Ren.” Kylo replies, “Who you are now is all that you are, may have well been all that you’ve ever been. The pain you once experienced will not affect you any longer.” Saying the words feel hypocritical for Kylo, but he senses the ease the statement provides to Eerson, the anxious energy steadying around the room into something flatter, stabilized. Kylo takes the opportunity to continue, “Disassociate from it. It’s no part of you. It never has been.”

Kylo closes his eyes, easing himself into Eerson’s mind. The probing makes the back of Kylo’s skull buzz. He manipulates his energy into Eerson’s, merging the two together. The energy, despite it’s invisibility, feels so tangible. It has the sound of a vacuum, tunneling their minds together. The first level in Eerson’s mind is peace. Calmness. Usually, there is with the Knights, unless something particularly stressful recently occurred. Kylo pushes further, to more superficial things, memories of the day’s events usually. 

Figures appear. The shadows of those around the sparring event. Kylo moves past it, deeming it unimportant. Then there’s food at a table, food from today. Just as Kylo goes to move past the memory, he hears it. 

“Mind if I sit here?” 

It’s her voice. But never how he’s heard it. She’s timid. She’s somewhat anxious with the situation. Through Eerson’s eyes, Kylo experiences him turning towards her. In Eerson’s memories, it’s as if she’s surrounded by a bright light. Skin glowing, eyes sparkling. Kylo nearly scoffs at Eerson’s dramatic interpretation of her. How his memory makes her hair messier than it is, than it should be. Agent’s hair is always pulled back in a tight bun, no stray hairs ever left out of the knot. But in Eerson’s mind, there’s baby hairs flying out, moving with a wind, an energy that didn’t even exist. Her lips are parted, fuller, eye lashes longer, darker. Her eyes flutter up into Kylo’s – no, into Eerson’s – and a shy smile overcomes her face. He’s never seen the Agent smile with such innocence, such femininity. It’s not her. Not the Agent he knows. It can’t be a memory of Eerson’s. 

But if it’s not a memory then…

Kylo quickly moves past the fantasy of her, deeper into his mind, despite his curiosity of where Eerson’s mind would’ve led him. He tells himself that Eerson thinking of the girl is completely normal. She’s a new face, a new person. Eerson’s mind is nearly trying to make sense of her presence. 

Kylo zeros in, focusing on the next image he can make sense of. He smells the food again. Hears the small talk of eating. The image of the Agent returns, sitting across from him. She giggles (the Agent giggles?) at whatever Eerson said, Eerson’s pride from the memory projecting. Kylo can’t help but wonder what Eerson said to produce such a reaction from her, such a reaction so unlike her. She holds a piece of bread up to her face, hiding her smile from view. Did she mean to do that, to hide her smile? Even though the action is endearing, he wished she would set the damned thing down so that he could see. For purely investigative purposes, of course. The closest thing to a smile Agent supplies him with is smirks of defiance. Then, there’s another feeling that begins overflowing the energy. One unclear, at first. Agent sets the bread down, back onto her plate and licks her flushed lips. She stares down at her plate, lost in some thought. Then her eyes flicker back up for the briefest moment. With that moment, the feeling projecting in the room becomes clear. Lust.

Kylo nearly rips himself out of the connection, squinting his eyes and opening them again, trying sperate himself from the feeling. 

“What did you see, Master?” Eerson asks, worried. Probably worried that Kylo saw something that jeopardizes his training, with the dramatic way Kylo is reacting.

The helmet on Kylo’s head feels so heavy, sweat forming across his brow. Kylo interjects, avoiding the question, “Perhaps now is not the best time for you to meditate.” Kylo swallows the salvia forming in his mouth. “Please send Trant Ren to me.”

A concerned Eerson stands to his feet, oblivious and startled. “Right away, Master.”

Kylo watches him scurry out. 

As soon as he’s gone, Kylo’s whole body tenses. This is the one place. The one damned place where she’s supposed to not be; the minds of one of his followers. And yet, she’s there, surrounded by a romanticized beam of light with over-exaggerated features and inaccurate quirks. Ridiculous. 

Kylo pushes the thoughts of her away as much he can possibly manage, once again, and focuses on Trant Ren, approaching him. The aged Twi’Lek man has always been so wise, so calm. Exactly what Kylo needs to pull him out of whatever mental hitch Eerson’s mind put him in.

 

And that’s exactly what he does.

The mediation goes so smoothly. It reassures Kylo of why he’s here, of his role of master. How could he even have been worried before? Eerson just started off his sessions on a bad foot. But Trant’s clear mind and cohesive goals set Kylo right back on track. Trant’s training is succeeding, he’s growing stronger in the Force with every day. Kylo’s chest broadens in pride, boasting in himself for the validation he needs to continue. 

Solaw Ren enters the meditation chamber next.

Solaw has always been the most confident, more in control than many of the other Knights. Kylo finds himself excited to overview Solaw’s progress, as Solaw always seems to make the greatest improvements while Kylo’s away. 

“Master,” Solaw says, bowing respectfully.

Kylo nods towards where Eerson and Trant once sat, relaxing himself. “Please, join me.”

“I wanted to address something before we began,” Solaw said coolly, a certain leisure to his demeanor. 

Kylo also particularly felt appreciated when his Knights approached him for guidance. Perhaps it was the validation Kylo craved, or the reassurance that Kylo was, in fact, doing something right. He tries to sound just as calm as Solaw, not over-excited to offer any help he can, “Go ahead.”

Solaw’s adam’s apple bobs up his throat, a nervous reaction for one moment, but then his expression reverts to it’s generally relaxed nature. “A situation arose as of recent and I found myself thinking on the ancient Sith teachings. Teachings of acting on impulse to gain strength. I would just like to run the situation by you before I decide to do anything.”

Kylo Ren agreed with this teaching to an extent, but he probably should take it more literally than he does in his everyday life. While he is impulsive, he does recognize that limiting yourself to act on impulse can be silly in certain situations. He knows this purely due to the mistakes he’s made when acting on this teaching (with or without intent.) Ren responds, “Situation?” Because of Ren’s lack of presence with the Knights as of late, this could be a number of things. Ren doesn’t waste his time in presumptions.

Solaw’s hand twitches at his side. “Master, I-” He pauses, rearranging his words in his mind. Solaw never gets this frazzled at his own words. He’s usually suave, smooth. “That girl, the one you came here with, she-”

Kylo’s expression immediately goes as dead-pan as his mask, yet internally, he’s about to implode.

“I believe that even within the short time I’ve gotten to know her, I can use my passion for her to make me stronger, according to these texts. I’m unsure how long she will be here, but I wish to act upon these urges.”

Kylo remains quiet, completely still. From inside his mask, he can feel his clenching jaw pressing into the metal frame of his helmet. Solaw Ren is, as he was just thinking, confident. Attractive, too. Someone he’d imagine many girls would take a liking to. The Agent and Solaw would logically be a great fit. He could teach her how to not be such a stuck-up droid. Yet, Solaw wouldn’t be able to intimidate her, one-up her, like he could to other girls. 

But there’s Eerson too. Who’s sensitive and kind. The Agent would most likely destroy him with her hard edges. Or maybe he could make her softer. Kylo doesn’t know.

He curses himself for caring enough to think of it.

“She’s not staying here.” He says, blankly.

Solaw asks, urging on, “But when is she leaving?”

“Soon enough.”

“I don’t need long.”

Kylo stops himself before immediately shutting Solaw down. He asks himself why he denies it. Technically, Solaw would be right to act on these urges. Kylo couldn’t care who his Knights have psychical relationships with. And emotion, passion, is a way to embody the dark side of the Force. And he isn’t ignorant to the things Agents must do in their line of work. He’s not ignorant of the freedom they have in that department. But he still says, despite the logic, “It’s unwise. I do not wish to hear of it again.”

Solaw can’t contain a look of confusion, of disappointment. 

Kylo continues asking, “Do you think your mind is prepared for meditation today? Or is it preoccupied with other matters of…” He can’t even bring himself to say.

Solaw blushes stammering, “Uh – yea – we should probably…” He blinks. “Let’s not.”

 

 

Hours later, Kylo finds himself back in his quarters at his kitchen, bitterly throwing vegetables into a pan. It sizzles, resembling the searing anger and frustration he feels inside him. He clenches his jaw, reaching for the oil and drizzling it over the food once more. He nearly breaks the spoon as he stirs the veggies around, the metal of the dishware clanking against eachother with each of his movements.

“Four of them…” He mutters staring into the steam, it rising to meet the bare skin of his face, “Four out of my seven Knights want to pursue her.”

Lex seems unsurprised, just humoring him at this point, “Yup…”

Kylo has been spending the past ten minutes ranting to her about each encounter. First the one with Eerson, where he had this romanticized fantasy of her. Then Solaw, who just straight up asked for Kylo’s “blessing” on the spot. And Maes, who saw her as this badass spy (from Mae’s thoughts he could specifically tell that Maes liked how smooth the Agent’s skin looked, which is completely ludicrous to Kylo as it’s obvious her skin would be smooth with the hygiene programs The Order provides to such higher-ranking members.) And finally, Tiru, who Kylo assumed hated Agent after the way she humiliated him, but it turns out that whatever frustration Tiru had in being beat up by her manifested into something more sexual. It’s revolting to Kylo. “I had no idea my Knights had such horrible taste.”

Lex crosses her arms across her chest, watching him carefully. “I wouldn’t say they have horrible taste.”

“Are you in love with her now too?” He snaps up at her, finally pulling his gaze away from the pan.

Her wide, doe-eyes blink, unphased. “I think she’s pretty. I haven’t really talked to her yet, though.”

Kylo scoffs, returning his attention to the food. Even though Lex’s statement was meant as something sincere, after being around the Agent for so long, he can’t help but register it as something sardonic. It sounds like something she would say, sarcastically. Kylo reaches over and tosses more meat into the pan. It crackles with contact.

“If you don’t like her why are you making her food?” Lex asks, curiously leaning forward.

Kylo answers in frustration, unsure for himself, “She… She didn’t seem happy with lunch or whatever.” He specifically remembered her glancing over the buffet style table, looking around each end to see if there was any more food on either side. When there wasn’t, she just settled for bread.

“And you care?”

“I don’t.”

Lex doesn’t respond, leaning back into her chair. 

“Do you need to meditate at all before you go to her?” She asks him.

Kylo looks up at the girl, somewhat sympathetically. He’s supposed to be helping her with her training, her meditations. Sometimes it feels like the roles are reversed. She’s too kind for her own good. She shouldn’t worry about him as much as she does. It’s not warranted. Kylo asks, attempting to regain the role that belongs to him. “My mind is clear. Would you like to meditate for yourself?”

She laughs, shyly looking downward. Child-like eyes set on her lap, “Your mind is certainly not clear.”

Kylo feels a rush of embarrassment race over him. He’s said too much to her already. This whole time he’s been complaining, venting. About something so unimportant. Kylo sighs, resetting his jaw, something within him responding to her with deterrence, in a tone he usually wouldn’t use with her, “What happens inside of my own mind is none of your concern.”

Her face depletes at that statement, large dark eyes turning soft, sad. Her bottom lip slightly trembles, then settles into a frown.

Kylo isn’t used to getting that reaction from his words. Not as of recent. He’s been speaking to Agent for so long, he’s forgotten the filter he uses with people like Lex Ren. Someone who genuinely cares for him, who takes what he says into actual consideration. He frowns. Maybe he shouldn’t be so soft with Lex Ren. Her sensitivity is a weakness. But he can’t bring himself to respond to her reaction with anything other than remorse, “I apologize.”

“No need. You’re right,” She says, bowing her head. “I overstepped my boundaries.”

He swallows, knowing that she actually believes it’s her fault. The cooperation is unsettling. Her devotion to him isn’t comforting, much like one would assume. Much like he should take pride in it, as a leader high in the ranks of The First Order. Not because he wants to, but to solely make her feel better, he suggests, “I appreciate your offer. Perhaps I should meditate.” He slides the cooked food from the pan onto the plate on the counter next to him. He turns off the stove.

He sees the relief settle on her face. The relief stemming solely from his approval. He frowns, walking around the counter, settling on the place in the floor in his living area. Lex follows him, sitting across from him, legs crossed.

He asks, before they can get the chance to begin, “How has your meditation been going? Would you like any assistance?”

She shakes her head, disappointingly so. “I’m fine. I would rather focus on-” She stops herself. But Kylo knows exactly what she was about to say; You. She would rather focus on him. He tries to not convey his disapproval in his facial expression. Instead she quickly back-pedals, “I would rather focus on separate matters.”

Kylo doesn’t respond, trying to separate himself from any thoughts of her before she enters his mind. It’s something he often must have to do. Kylo knows the way Lex feels about him. Lex knows the impossibility of Kylo reciprocating that. They’ve come to settle on that understanding.

He sighs, clearing his mind carefully, crossing his legs. He allows any stresses of the day to release through an exhale. His eyes close. No thinking about Lex, about the other Knights, about Supreme Leader Snoke. Just the energy of the Force, moving around him, within him. 

And most importantly, the lack of Agent 2319’s presence. She can’t bother him here, in meditations. Here’s where he finds peace. Serenity. 

Has she ever felt such a thing?

Her mind is such a mystery to him. 

He hates that she doesn’t project. It drives him insane. But, it’s also so nice. It gives him sanity. Being in a room with her is not filled with fear. Paranoia. It’s indifference. Sure, sometimes annoyance. But it’s always the playful kind. Not loud. Sometimes, he wonder’s if she’s actually projecting or if he’s just trying to guess what she’s feeling; that’s how quiet her mind is. 

He recalls the sight of her curled up into the co-pilot’s chair of his ship. She went there, expecting to find the room empty, but instead found him, unable to sleep as well. He had tried, quite endlessly. He’s learned to cope with the reality of the nightmares that tirelessly torment him at night, but that night in particular he was too tired to fall asleep just to be woken up again. He didn’t want to deal with whatever demon would visit his slumber. So, staying awake was ideal. 

The thin blanket didn’t stretch enough to cover her whole body, so she sufficed to have it draped over her shoulders, chest and arms. She seemed impossibly sleepy, eye lids heavy, voice lowered and scratchy. She was more relaxed than usual. Movements groggy, weight leaning into the chair with carelessness. It was like for a brief moment, whatever puppet master that controlled her from above let go of the ropes. She laughed with him in the recollection him leaving her on that moon to die. She claims to hold such a high grudge over him for that night and yet she acknowledged the blaster wound he caused her with light humor. He rarely gets the pleasure of hearing anyone laugh. When was the last time someone was alone with him and laughed?

As he looked out at the stars that laid ahead of him, all he could feel or think about was her gaze, fighting to stay awake, focused on him. He didn’t have a clue what she was looking at. Or thinking about. 

But Kylo found himself caring about whatever it was.

“Master.” The voice says, tearing him away from the memory.

His eyes blink open. Immediately he wonders how much she saw. She’s still learning to read minds. Maybe she didn’t see much.

But telling himself that would be foolish, with the way she’s staring at him. 

It’s the most complicated expression he thinks he’s seen from a person. Not quite disappointment, but despondency. Not shock, but speechlessness. And an overall sadness that is understated in it all. She always looks so youthful. So, when she does show emotion like sadness, it seems so much seriousness, so much more necessary to prevent the emotion from evolving.

“Yes?” Kylo asks, trying to play it off like he has no idea what she saw, what she was thinking about.

She blinks, looking away, eyelashes fluttering softly. “Perhaps you should go fulfill your duties with her,” She mummers, standing up.

Kylo grabs his helmet from the counter, unsure of how to respond in any way other than silence.

 

 

He stands outside Agent 2319’s door, looking down at himself. He seems so silly, with the plate of food in his hand and mask now on. He didn’t think through the logistics of this. She’s going to make fun of him for such actions. Goddammit. He knocks before he can change his mind, taking a deep breath. Goddammit. He’s so ridiculous. Why did he even decide to do this? He looks down the hall, at Lex Ren walking away, wishing he never knocked on her door to begin with.

Suddenly, the door opens to reveal R8.

Kylo pushes past the droid, explaining hastily and emphasizing the bitterness, “I brought you this since you seemed so disgusted with the food provided to you.”

He basically throws the plate on the table, turning to look around the room. His eyes scan the proximity of the quarters and then move to the opened bathroom door. She’s not here.

“As a droid, I do not ingest food, Commander Ren.” R8 says, matter-of-factly. 

Kylo would normally be significantly more annoyed at such a comment. But now only one question presses his mind. He asks it, cautiously, “Where is Agent 2319?”

R8 doesn’t waste any time to answer, Kylo Ren’s intimidating nature not causing the droid to hesitate just as much as it doesn’t cause the Agent to hesitate, “Agent 2319 has informed me to pass on information to you to contact her through her comm-link, if you are ready to begin The Supreme Leader’s assignment.” 

Kylo stares at the droid, voice lowering to repeat, “Where is Agent 2319?”

R8’s eyes blink. Then, “I am unsure of her exact location. If you would like, I could find her with the tracking technology embedded in all of our Agents, or I could-”

“Was she with anyone?” Kylo interrupts, impatient.

R8 answers compliantly, “She left with one of your Knights. I believe Solaw Ren is his name. According to-”

Kylo leaves before R8 can finish his sentence. He strides down the hallway angrily, practically stomping. He specifically told Solaw not to pursue such a ridiculous idea. And Agent just left with him. Without any resistance, any stubbornness. He thought he could rely on that, if anything, to deter his Knights away from her. 

Kylo walks so fast that he eventually catches back up with Lex Ren, heading to the Knight’s dormitories. 

Lex calls out to him, “Master! Are you alright?”

He doesn’t answer, smashing his thumb into the panel to open the door in the most passive aggressive way to press a button. Lex comes beside him, sighing lightly, waiting for the door to open.

And it does. Lex enters first, nonchalantly smiling at the group of Knights that gather inside the room. She isn’t quite sure why Kylo came down here. But once her eyes meet the Agent’s she knows exactly why. She looks away from her, walking to the back of the room to be as removed from whatever dynamic the Agent and Kylo have as possible. 

Kylo’s eyes settle on the Agent, sitting on the lounging sofa in between Solaw and Eerson Ren. The two Knights look back at him, swallowing hard in unison. Agent seems unbothered, comfortable. There’s no embarrassment or shame in her eyes. 

He’s opens his mouth to make the snidest of comment to her about leaving her room, about not following instructions, just whatever he can conjure up in the moment to pull her off of whatever self-righteous pedestal she puts herself on. 

But before he can say anything at all, she stands to her feet, acknowledging all the Knights with a charismatic grin, “I regretfully must leave this game.” 

Solaw looks up at her, eyes sparkling as if he’s been put under a spell. No, not spell-bound – corrupted. “You lucked out, Agent 2319.”

She blushes. She actually blushes. Kylo’s fists clench shut impossibly tighter. She laughs at the statement, in a laugh that’s so different from the one Kylo heard last night in the cockpit of his command shuttle. It’s not quite as relaxed, more jarring, more constructed. “You wish.” She replies before approaching Kylo.

The Agent steps around Kylo to exit the room. He presses the button with the same aggression he used to open it. Kylo thinks of the millions of things to say to her, to reprimand her for. But his livid energy is all put into the way he walks. He can’t think of a way to structure his words. He doesn’t even want to talk to her. So he doesn’t.

She opens the door to her room, so oblivious to how pissed Kylo actually is. Her eyes connect with the plate on the table. Goddammit, Kylo forgot about that. She says to R8, excited, grateful, “Oh my god, how’d you get me real food?”

R8 doesn’t answer, but his eyes meet Kylo Ren’s figure.

Damned droid. Using up more of his angry energy to pace, he makes his way across the room towards kitchen table. He needs to sit down, calm down. He can stop this issue right here, right now. He sits at her kitchen table, taking a deep breath. He says, trying to dilute his silly, meaningless actions as much as possible, conjuring up whatever he can, “The Knights are on a very strict diet, one vastly different than the Agent’s. I figured that you would be in a better mood if you received food more attune to your regular meal plan.”

She gives him a questionable look, eyebrow raised before taking a bite of the food and grabbing the plate. She sits across from Kylo, lounging back into her chair. Kylo can’t help but study her expression as she swallows, wondering if she’s satisfied. 

She says with a mouthful of food, “This is really good,” She takes another bite, “Thanks.”

She probably thinks he’s absurd, just as obsessed with her as the other Knights are. He’s not. He snaps before he can think through his words, “Supreme Leader Snoke ordered me to do it.”

Her eyes meet his, humored, “Supreme Leader of The First Order commanded you to take the time to prepare fine dining for me, rather than just tell me to eat the food provided here already?”

Kylo can’t help but gruff at that comment. He breaks the eye contact, unable to look at her. He can’t admit to lying now, but he’s well aware that she’s not going to question The Supreme Leader about the issue. He says, trying as hard as possible to convey his annoyance with the task of supplying her food, “I know it’s absurd. If you have questions, take it up with him.”

Her eyes stay locked on his as she brings the fork to her mouth, taking another bite. As her lips wrap around the metal silverware, she keeps her eyes right on his, as if she’s mocking him. For a moment, he recalls Eerson Ren’s memories of her in the dining hall, eating the bread. He recalls how Eerson remembered her as a bright source of light. Radiate. Refined. Definitely not the snarky girl sitting across from him who plays off his displeasure of her presence. 

She carefully cuts into the meat into several cubes. “So what is involved in training the mind to be resistant to Jedi or whatever?”

Kylo totally forgot that. Supreme Leader Snoke’s excuse for him bringing her here; teaching her about avoiding Jedi mind tricks. It’s so silly. Kylo really doesn’t understand why Supreme Leader Snoke has conjoined them at the hip to begin with. When he asks, Snoke creates many different answers. Everything from Kylo being able to learn from her lack of remorse, dedication and order. He said that the Agent, someone not tainted with the burdens of family life would be a good influence on Kylo. Kylo doesn’t see the point. Especially right now, when he just wants to be alone. Kylo responds, “Hurry up finish eating, I don’t want to spend all night here.”

“Right,” she sneers, knowingly, “I’d hate to intrude on your plans.” 

His eyes squint at her. He’s not sure what that insinuates. She’s the one with suggestive plans that he’s intruding on. Hypocrite. 

She takes another bite, whatever previous accusation expression melting away. A tiny moan projects from her as she relaxes into her seat, the sound taking Kylo off-guard. He stiffens. She says with a mouthful of food, pointing down at her plate, “Did Supreme Leader Snoke cook this himself?”

“Would you just eat your goddamn food?” Now she’s just being irrationally irritable.

Surprisingly enough, she does. Whatever irritation Kylo feels must have reached her as well. She eats quickly, hopefully getting the hint that Kylo does not want to be around her and the quicker he can leave, the better. 

When she finishes she picks up the plate, keeping her eyes on Kylo as she hands it to R8. R8 exits the room to dispose of it. She always gives Kylo that look. A stare to prove to him that she’s not afraid of his mask, of whatever power he possesses. It’s a cutthroat, lethal gaze. It kind of scares Kylo, if he’s being honest with himself. No – not scare. It’s something between unsettling and provocative. Something that makes him feel the same way fear does. But she most definitely doesn't scare him.

He asks, “You wish to know how to avoid Jedi mind tricks?”

She nods, seemingly just as bored as he is with the idea of him teaching her the ways of the Force.

It just occurs to him that he doesn’t have to teach her anything. He knows Snoke doesn’t care. He knows she doesn’t care. He doesn’t have to put up with her presence. He responds with the easiest answer he can muster, “Don’t be a weak-minded fool.” He stands to his feet, exiting the room.

Before he can reach the door, she runs in front of him, blocking his path, “I don’t think the stormtrooper program has any anti-weak-minded fool classes, so you’re going to have to elaborate.”  
Does he really have to explain himself? Why can’t they just settle on the agreement to not be around each other? He says, unable to stop himself from thinking out loud, “This is the most ridiculous excuse for bringing you to Korriban I have ever heard of.” 

She narrows her eyes, testing him, “Obviously not if Snoke thinks it’s necessary.” 

Ren starts pacing back and forth, the torturous reminders of his Knights feelings for her resurfacing. He’s Commander Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. He doesn’t have to. He can control this situation. He mumbles to himself, mind racing with ideas to keep her away from his Knights, “You’re just going to have to stay in your room from now on.” 

Her mouth drops open, so obliviously asking, “Excuse me?”

He stills, shoulders square to her. He can do this. He can stand up to this insignificant girl, it’s no problem for him. He orders, voice booming with authority. “I am not allowing you to associate with any of the Knights, ever again.”

She looks at him like she has no idea what he’s referring to, dumbfounded. “Are you joking?”

Kylo stands his ground, “No more talking to them, listening to them, or even looking at them.” He forces himself to stay as still as possible, knowing from experience that this is how he tends to intimidate most people. 

She only responds by stepping closer to him, her fists forming at her sides. “You are explicitly ordering me to not be friends with them. Do you realize how…” Her eyes look him up and down, mind desperately trying to find the right word, “mean that is? How completely malicious you are?”

Mean. That’s the word she settled on. Ren can’t help but laugh at the childish vocabulary, subconsciously stepping away from her, “Don't be ridiculous. I could not be bothered with who you decide to make friends with.”

“Why then? Their training is fine, I’m not distr-”

“You are distracting them.” He interrupts her. To even insinuate she’s not is absurd. 

Yet, she stills stands behind her blind statement, “I am not.”

In another attempt to leave, he steps around her, snidely saying, “I can hear their thoughts, Agent. They are distracted.”

Her voice raises, producing her words quickly enough for him to hear before he makes it out the door, “What are they thinking that’s such a huge interference that you decide to take such unnecessary measures?”

Like she doesn’t know. He snorts at her attempt to seem oblivious. She knows exactly what she’s doing. It’s her job to be methodical, manipulative, constructing each one of her responses to tailor to every situation. He reaches for the button opening to door.

But suddenly, he feels a tug on his wrist, pulling him away from the button. He turns into the touch, unable but to succumb to it, pivoting to face her. It takes him so off guard, he can’t not surrender to the contact. No one’s ever done that. No one’s ever dared. He stares at her slender fingers wrapped around his wrist, his breath caught in his throat. She keeps her hand still for a moment, the weight of his arm completely submissive to her grasp. She too glances down at the contact, then back up to him. Suddenly, she throws his wrist back down at his side, pulling Kylo away from the moment. 

She says, voice nearly venomous in it’s threat, “Don’t do that, you have to tell me. Or I will ask them myself. You wouldn’t want to make a big deal of this, especially to the Knights, would you?”

The last thing Kylo needs is for this to become a bigger deal than it already is. Does she really not know? Or is she so self-righteous that she just wants to hear him say it?

She pushes impatiently, “Tell me.”

How can he even tell her? What should he even say to summarize it all? He feels himself blush and he silently curses at the reaction. He looks away, just barely being able to get out the single word, “Lust.”

And she fucking laughs. Right in his face. The type of laugh that bends you at the waist, makes you nearly panic because of how you cannot breathe. No one has ever laughed this freely in front of him. Not since he's become Kylo Ren.

He finds himself paralyzed by the sight of it and by idea that he even just said the word "lust" to her.

She’s barely even able to communicate the question in between her hysterical laughter, “Are you twelve fucking years old?”

He clenches his teeth, defensively countering, “I wouldn't have to take such drastic measures if you-”

Yet again, she interrupts, “You secluded a bunch of sexually active adults on this godforsaken planet. Are you honestly surprised that the moment they see another girl for the first time in god knows how long they feel somewhat lustful?”

He can’t help by cross his arms in front of him, holding them tightly around his chest, an act of insecurity, embarrassment. “Don’t act like you knew nothing of this.”

Something within her supplies her with the audacity to roll her eyes at him, “Solaw is going to go back to his quarters, get one off, and then be over it.”

“It’s not just Solaw.” He barks, not thinking before the words come out. Immediately he curses himself. He could’ve very well just have kept that information from her. His mind backtracks, wondering what Solaw has done to make it so obvious. If they’ve already done anything specifically together. The thought makes him feel sick inside himself.

Her eyes light up with curiosity, taken aback, “Who else?”

He doesn’t respond.

Her throat contracts, “Well?”

He shifts his weight. Should he even say it? Why would he? He looks back at her, an weak-sounding answer coming with his willingness to submit to that gaze, “Eerson, Tiru and Maes.”

She laughs again. Even louder.

“And you accuse me of being twelve,” Ren mummers, making his way back around to the kitchen table. He leans into it's edge, giving into the exhaustion the situation makes him feel. He hopes she’s happy (even though he certainly doesn’t care.) He stares at her with the most loathsome glare from under his mask. He partially wishes the mask was off, just so that she could see how much he hates this all. She sighs, composing herself, settling into a smug smile.

She says, white teeth gleaming, eyes warm, “I think you’re overreacting.”

That’s probably the worst thing she could’ve suggested. Overreacting? She’s lucky he hasn’t shipped her back off to The Finalizer by now. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t even see why it’s a problem. Are they not allowed to be… you know, se-”

He answers before she specifies, knowing he wouldn’t be able to deal with hearing her say the words ‘sexually active’ for a second time in the same conversation, “They’re encouraged to. Passion is a source of power.”

“Wonderful,” She says, shoulders relaxing, “I’ll go show them a good time and they’ll be more powerful than ever! What’s the problem?”

He hates her. He absolutely hates her. He readjusts himself against the table. “I don’t have to answer to you.” He spits.

Her stare goes blank, bored with the lack of a snarky, witty response.

Suddenly, the door behind her opens. R8 walks back into the room, teetering towards the Agent. “Master, is everything alright?” He asks, noticing her face still red from the prior fit of laughter.

“Oh, I’m great!” She responds, beaming at Kylo with the biggest, snarkiest smile.

“Master Ren?” The droid asks.

Kylo grunts, mumbling under his breath, pushing off the table to stand. The only thing he wants to do less than talk to the Agent is talk to her droid. He sneers at it, “Tell your Master to leave my Knights alone.” Kylo makes his way back to the door, for good this time.

He’s stopped, yet again, but this time from R8’s voice, “My master was ordered by Supreme Leader Snoke to survey and study your Knights. I’m afraid that she cannot obey your request, due to Supreme Leader’s position.”

He looks back at the Agent reveling in the droid being on her side, for once. She summarizes, as if she’s only saying it to make it sink more into Kylo’s psyche, driving him even more crazy. “So, let me get this straight: you don’t want me to associate with them because they’re attracted to me. Even though they’re allowed to be attracted to me. And even though it makes them more powerful.”

That’s all exactly right.

“Wait,” She slides a hand into her hair, “How do you even know it’s me they’re attracted to? You told me you only can see what emotions others are feeling. That the only way you see details is when you make the effort to enter their mind or whatever.”

Gods, now he has to explain this too? He answers the question with another question, “What do you think we do during mediation?”

She brings her hand to her mouth, concealing another laugh. “That’s so embarrassing for them,” She exhales, curiously inquiring “What did you see? Like what were they thinking?”

“We’re done here.” He growls, exiting before R8 or the Agent get the chance to stop him.

And it works. He leaves.

What a damned mess. He stomps back down the hallway, trying as hard as he can to not replay the conversation in his mind. Trying not to feel the embarrassment of the way he talked to her, the way she talked back to him. He pushes that as far as he can from himself.

He looks down at his wrist as he walks, reaching his opposite hand to wrap around it, fingers rubbing away the feeling of her touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's finally up! i've been teasing it for only 3 chapters now, lol. sorry it took so long! wanted to add as much as i could, to really give an insight on where kylo is at this point. 
> 
> i would love to hear any requests for more updates! is there a specific question you have about where a certain character was at what time? do you want a certain character's POV told? any questions about agent's past? any one-shot requests for kylo/agent? 
> 
> I was thinking that the chapter where Agent gets LIT would be a cool chapter to tell from Kylo's POV. Or when she finally sees him without his mask. I dont know, i'm really open to whatever! 
> 
> thanks for reading!


	2. Permission (Kylo Ren POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Kylo Ren  
> Time: Mid-Chapter 31, taking place after Kylo and Agent speak in Kylo's office, as Kylo is meeting with Supreme Leader Snoke

Kylo Ren walks down the runway to approach the looming figure of Supreme Leader Snoke. The hologram’s projection is so large, so imposing. Kylo understands why it must be that way. The Supreme Leader must maintain that dominance with all members of The First Order. But with Kylo Ren? 

It feels unnecessary, artificial. It feels unfair. 

It’s not how he wants to talk with the Supreme Leader. 

Kylo Ren often would communicate with the Supreme Leader Snoke through his mind with the Force. The presence of that connection has been the only constant in his life. Snoke has been the only constant. But such a form of communication, even for someone as powerful as Supreme Leader Snoke, poses challenges. With the difficulty the action presents, it's a challenge to preserve clarity of the messages. When Kylo Ren was younger, in the early stages of childhood, Snoke did not have to try too hard to push past the vulnerabilities of his mind. But with more knowledge, with more training, it became harder to maintain the connection, requiring more effort on both of their parts. For a long time, at the Academy, Kylo attempted to block The Supreme Leader from reaching him.

But no matter how hard he tried, he still felt him there. Looming. Not with him. But near.

Eventually, at night, the darkness was too much to bear on his own. The nightmares that visited him were something too risky to bring up to Master Luke. Master Luke – a powerful Jedi, bound to the light side of the Force. He wouldn’t tolerate such darkness. He wouldn't tolerate the potential of Kylo Ren being so capable to cause such destruction. If there was one thing Kylo Ren feared more than the darkness, it was failure. So Kylo hid it. Repressed it. Until he had no choice but to confide in the one person who would accept him for who he truly was; A monster. And Kylo Ren understands full well that the only one to love a monstrosity would be another monster of the same strain.

Kylo must crane his neck upwards to meet the gaze of The Supreme Leader. He does. The Supreme Leader peers down at him. The light of day fades behind his holographic figure, making the shape of his master even more shadowed than it usually would be. Here, he’s merely a figure. He seems so disconnected from the man. He doesn’t want to be disconnected. Kylo sucks in his cheeks, exhaling through his nose. He lowers himself to the ground to bow.

As he’s bowing, he can see the reflection of himself faintly in the floor. It’s blurred, fuzzy. Nearly unrecognizable. 

Coming here today, to meet with The Supreme Leader is absolutely the last thing he wants to do at this moment. After this afternoon when he discovered that Starkiller Base would be used to destroy Hosnian Prime, he’s felt so uneasy. Unsure. The light has basically been pulling at him, limb by limb. Tempting him, begging him to stop this. Part of him wonders if he should. He knows he shouldn’t, he can’t. But is he strong enough to resist it?

He doesn’t know.

“Remove your mask and arise, my child.” Supreme Leader Snoke’s voice echoes throughout the room. 

Kylo Ren mentally curses at the request, wishing he had the helmet to hide underneath, especially now. He reaches upward to the release triggers on either side of his jaw and sets the mask on the ground. The metal clinks against the floor. Kylo rises to his feet. He relaxes his face as much as he can, trying to replicate a statue in his expression. Emotionless. He’s seen how easy it is for Agent 2319 to do such a thing. It’s nearly instantaneous, like a switch she can turn on and off. Kylo yearns for that type of control over his own body, his own actions.

Supreme Leader Snoke speaks, cutting through the silence after a moment of examining the boy’s expression, “General Hux informed me that you found about Starkiller Base’s purpose.”

Kylo Ren says, voice containing the slightest of cracks, “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

The Supreme Leader’s blue eyes go softer, eyebrows upturned. “I apologize that you haven’t been informed sooner. I wasn’t quite sure how you would take it. I know your nature.”

Kylo rejects immediately, “My nature resides in the dark side of the Force.”

“Some of it does… yes.” 

Kylo goes quiet, pulling back anymore of his defensive words.

The Supreme Leader brings his elongated hand upwards to rest on his cheek. He tilts his head slightly, leaning into his palm, “Your empathy worries me at times. You can be so soft, compared to those conditioned by The Order. I merely wish for you to have a chance to catch up, considering the misfortune of your childhood upbringing. All those years of wasted potential…”

Kylo blinks, forcing eyes to remain on The Supreme Leader. He yearns for the comfort of his helmet. “I am not empathetic towards anyone standing in the way of The First Order.”

Supreme Leader Snoke sighs, as if he’s testing Kylo, then says, “If you need any guidance during this time, I am here to assist you. Do not be afraid to console in me.”

Luke Skywalker would assure him the same thing. Kylo shudders at the terrifying thought that maybe, nothing really has changed. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“Is there anything you wish to bring to my attention, while we have each other’s company?”

Kylo wonders if The Supreme Leader already knows, if he was able to breach his mind and see the question beforehand. Kylo has been contemplating how to present the question ever since he told Agent 2319 that he would ask it. Now would be the time, if ever. Kylo hesitates, sure that he wishes to go, but unsure of himself. “My request is unrelated to the topic Starkiller Base.”

“Continue,” Snoke encourages.

Kylo swallows, takes a deep breath, then blurts out, “I am requesting approval to accompany Agent 2319 on a mission to Naboo.”

Snoke leans backwards, shoulders rising with a suppressed laugh. “May I ask your role in the mission?”

“In three days, Agent 2319 is attending a Resistance and Rebellion Gala to obtain information on the Resistance Frigate attacking The Finali-”

“I’m well aware of her role.” Supreme Leader Snoke scoffs. “I was inquiring yours.”

As Kylo Ren answers, he can feel The Supreme Leader looking right through him, “After the incident on Hoth, I wish to be on standby to ensure her safety.” The answer isn’t technically a lie. It’s his main motivator in going. But to leave out the whole part of wanting to spend time with her, while not on a military base or in the middle of a battlefield… That is some form of lying.

Supreme Leader tilts his head in admiration, “Young child, so kind of you to take concern over her.”

Kylo Ren doesn’t respond, trying desperately to mask his embarrassment. 

“Would it be helpful if I sent one of my personal guards to join her? Perhaps a Knight of Ren?” Snoke suggests, his fingers tapping mindfully against his sunken cheek. 

The last thing Kylo Ren wants is for one of the Knights to join her. There’s a four out of six chance that would be nearly torturous for Kylo Ren. Perhaps this is why he is so quick to rebuff, “I wish to do it myself.”

Snoke’s once subtle laughter turns to something more knowing, a sound that rumbles across the expanse of the room. “Tell me why. Go ahead. There are no secrets between you and I.”

Kylo swallows hard, unable to look his master in the eye as he mutters, “I wish to spend time with her.”

“There it is,” Supreme Leader says, not as humored by the request as he once was. “You understand that you’re allowed to have feelings for this girl, however naïve they may be. I am not going to forbid you from that. You are my apprentice, not my prisoner.”

Kylo allows himself to indulge in the lack of anger the Supreme Leader expresses. It’s fine. The hard part – bringing it up – is now over. He just has to receive his answer. His mind steadies, trying not to dwell on the mention of how his feelings for the Agent are naïve. 

Supreme Leader Snoke says passively, “My only concern is your actions that follow these feelings. And the consequences they are destined to bring…”

Kylo assures his Master, “I do not foresee her causing me any harm.”

Snoke sighs sadly, giving Kylo a look of pity. It’s demoralizing. “The girl has been raised to do nothing but cause harm, my child. Do you reject that?”

Kylo can’t help but respond defensively, “She’s not like that around me.” He dials down whatever emotions rose up within him to say softer, more submissive to Supreme Leader’s presence, “I believe I am within her best interests.”

“Her best interests?” Snoke says, skeptically. “You must look at this situation from an objective point of view. Why would she feel that way about you?”

Kylo opens his mouth to respond but he can’t find the words to do so.

The Supreme Leader explains, pulling his hand from his face to slightly wave it with the phrasing of his words, “You are a strong user in the Force, full of power, full of promise. I do not doubt that. But you cannot deny that one of your biggest weaknesses has been your guileless hope in others. You are so trusting of them, so naïve. You do realize that accompanying her will mean being around thousands of other civilians? Civilians that you are so far above, so out of touch with. When was the last time you have been with people in that manner, Kylo Ren?” Snoke pauses, but ends up answering his own question, “It’s been nearly a decade, hasn’t it? Perhaps even longer. There’s a reason for that. You’re different than them. You cannot coexist with people like that, people like her; A girl who has no understanding of who you are, of what the Force is. They could never comprehend it. Not the way you deserve to be understood.”

Kylo furrows his eyebrows, looking away in defiance. His initial response to the Agent’s question was fear of being in a public environment. But some part of him tricked himself into believing he could handle it. As long as she was there with him. And the Agent has been ignorant of his experiences in the past. But usually, after a conversation on the issue, she softens up and tries to understand where he’s coming from. Perhaps that will never end. She will never truly know who he is.

Snoke sees Kylo’s expression for what it is. He pauses. Then replaces his words with a sterner, more serious tone, “Your judgement, your hope in others, has failed you before. I’m merely trying to protect you from it failing again. Why would you put yourself through such unnecessary pain once more?”

Kylo tries to keep the words from hitting him too close. At least for now. He knows the moment the mask returns to his face, the words will settle deep within him, infesting, taunting, terrifying him. 

“Out of all the girls you could have picked, you choose the one who has been trained in manipulation, in seduction. It’s no wonder.” He sighs, absentmindedly brushing his nail against the arm of the throne. “So I ask you again, why would she take such a genuine, pure liking to you? This is a girl who is everything but genuine and pure.”

“I…” He starts. He doesn’t know. He hasn’t had the slightest idea, if he’s being honest with himself. And Snoke knows that full well.

“You – someone who’s so unbalanced, so emotional. Do you think she likes the fact that you have outbursts and psychological episodes? To use the girl for your own gratification, that’s one thing. But to believe that she would feel anything for you is delusional. When I first assigned her to aid you, I thought that she would keep you in line with the beliefs of The First Order. But this, this is not what I intended at all. I knew of your shortcomings, but never thought you were naïve enough to conjure up such a ridiculous narrative of romance with such a mindless, personality-derived instrument of war. Ask yourself what she really wants.” He defeatedly sighs, sinking into the structure of the throne. 

Kylo Ren winces at the words. As much as he wants to reject all the claims about her, he can't get past actually wondering the question Snoke is posing. He has a point, Kylo must admit. There's a part of him that wants to argue that she’s not like the other members of The Order. To argue that she’s, for whatever reason, different. But there’s really no point in doing so. If he were to try, he would only sound more pathetic. All he can do is say nothing and tell himself that one day, Snoke will know that Kylo is right about her. 

Snoke mumbles to himself, “I can’t convince you, can I?”

Kylo remains silent even still.

“Perhaps she can.” He speaks up, projecting his voice bolder. “Go ahead and go.”

That isn’t very reassuring. Kylo supposes he got what he wanted. But the doubt that’s always within him intensifies with Snoke’s words. Kylo nods, trying to seem confident in his choice, “Thank you, Master.”

Kylo grabs his helmet, turning on his heel to leave. He builds up a mental wall around any of the words just said to him, trying desperately to not let anything get to him just yet. Not until he's somewhere safe. He’s yards away from the elevator. He wishes he were closer already.

Snoke’s voice returns to the room, “Agent 2319 went to Bonodan with General Hux, I see.”

This piques Kylo’s attention. He turns to face Snoke once again. “Yes?”

“I wonder why that is…” Snoke lets the thought ring in the air. 

The hologram evaporates into nothingness. Darkness consumes the room. 

Kylo doesn’t get the chance to say that he finds himself wondering that same thing as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so thank you all for such kind words about last chapter! i really liked hearing all the requests too! i have no clue what order i'll be posting, but there's so many moments you all mentioned that i'm willing to write! 
> 
> I wanted to get this chapter out before the whole naboo plotline goes into full swing. i just figured it'd be interesting to know where kylo is in all of this at this point, for readers who are interested in all this extra stuff. and i think it's interesting to see what snoke is telling him, versus what he's telling agent. thank you all again x483928!


	3. Assembly (Omniscient POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Third Person, Omniscient  
> Time: Approx. 10 Years Before Snoke's Assignment to Agent 2319

5D-R8’s circuits buzzed to life. The circular, yellow eyes blinked. Joints bent to ensure all movement functions were operating correctly. New coding ran through it’s digital mind, information being uploaded at an instantaneous speed, connections of this information being latched onto the person screwing the chest plate into place. In a mere second, 5D-R8 could comprehend everything there was about this person. R8 had her past, her family ties, her accomplishments, her strengths, her daily schedule, her medical records… everything available, floating around the cloud of his intelligence. 

But coding and files could only go so far.

R8 noticed that her expression was despondent, mouth drawn in a straight line. Eyes relaxed, focused on turning the screwdriver with a steady, yet quick hand. 

“Hello, Agent 2319,” R8 chirped, “I am 5D-R8, your personal assistant droid specialized in accompanying agents of The First Order! My emphasis lies in human psychology and interaction analysis. I am proficient in aiding you in maintaining undercover positions and organizing information.”

The girl didn’t respond at first, neither with language or expression. After a beat, she pulled away from the chest plate, looking at it with critically narrowed eyes, making sure it was on correctly. It was. Her face relaxed and she murmured a dull, “Hello.”

The droid craned it’s head around, taking in the expanse of the area. It’s a large room, used for physical exercises and the instruction of hand-to-hand combat. But today it was used for the assignment of new agents to their droids. The other agents stood in front of their droids, still fiddling with the insides of their droid’s computing systems. One other agent had finished completing the assembly of his droid, it’s robotic voices faint, yet definite, in the distance.

The first official observation 5D-R8 made on Agent 2319 are the glances she gave to the other Agent who had finished constructing his droid. It seemed nonchalant. She could merely be reacting to the stimulus the sound the droid’s communications created. But upon returning her gaze forward, R8 noticed the slightest crease form in her eyebrow. Did she dislike that particular agent? Or is it frustration that he finished the assembly before her? R8 would conclude the reason after learning more about her personality tendencies.

Today was an exciting day for agents, as it always is. An agent’s companion droid is the one thing they can trust throughout their life as an agent. A constant, in whatever perilous adventures being an agent may ensure. 5D-R8 beamed, “I am very excited to work along side of you, Agent 2319! My programming is specific to your own personal needs, meaning we are certain to make a wonderful team!”

Agent 2319’s eyes drifted away as she absentmindedly nodded, staring at the other agent again. What was that agent’s call sign? R8 activated his facial recognition mechanism to answer the question. His lenses focused on the agent’s squared-face. Shaved head. Tawny skin. Symmetrical features. Algorithms confirmed the man’s identity. Agent 2522. Decently ranked in this class. Specifically, skilled in tech. So skilled that he was currently outranking Agent 2319 in the area. But, Agent 2319 had him beat nearly in every other category. 

R8 confirmed suspicions that Agent 2319 is competitive. But just how competitive is she? This could be a great thing, to motivate the Agent’s performance… as long as it’s kept in check, which R8 would be doing. 

When R8 turned back towards the Agent, she was already staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed. Upon R8’s gaze, she sighed, relaxing her face back into that of displacement. 

Agent 2319 wished that she could be excited for such an occasion. This is what some of the officers she’s overheard call an “agent holiday.” The other agents-in-training made conversation with their droid. Getting your own personal droid is exciting – not only because of the implications of a companion, but because it is a sign that the training process is progressing. Agent 2319, however, did not speak, merely standing silently at an attention-like stature. Her mouth began to feel dry. She tried not to think about Agent 2522’s success in the task. How Lieutenant Leven’s eyes watched the boy work, knowing in the back of his mind he would be the first to complete. She almost had him… If she just would have not hesitated when wiring the intelligence core to the joint movement data system.

 _Idiot…_ She mentally cursed herself. _You better beat him next time. You better fucking beat him next time…_

She heard his voice in in the distance, making conversation with the droid. He talked to the droid about his favorite foods and what days they are served here. The droid explained that it will assist with meal planning once they have more flexibility with food choice. Agent 2522 talked to the droid as if it’s a friend, not a computer. Not a program designed to test and analyze you constantly.

“As I am going through your schedule I notice that we will be engaging in a workout routine shortly.” 5D-R8 chirped, initiating conversation for what may be a timid Agent. Maybe she was just being shy. R8 attempted to warm her up, “Do you have a favorite exercise to do in the gym?”

Shy girls do not look so unapologetic, though. Agent 2319 did not budge, offering only a stale answer, “I do not have a favorite.”

“Oh,” The droid seemed surprised by this. “Do you not enjoy working out?”

“I do not mind it.”

“What is your least favorite activity?”

“I do not have a least favorite.” 

R8 analyzed her voice through it’s audio wave converter. The waves were so steady, so low. R8 related the image to that of an electrocardiographic wave after a subject dies. That’s what she sounded like to R8… A heart beat flat-lining. 

Agent 2319 blinked, pushing her chin upwards as a man approached. R8 scanned his badge. Lieutenant Leven. He was white, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. A young lieutenant, only nineteen years old. His father served the Empire, before their fall. Lieutenant Leven has a great reputation among The First Order and now specializes in training agents. 

He stood in front of R8, glancing at the droid up and down. Leven inspected the droid carefully, picking apart it’s each and every aspect. “How did she do?” Leven asks the droid.

5D-R8 answered the man, all the while knowing Agent 2319 was listening. This could be the chance to establish a form of trust, of respect between the two of them. R8 did not have to even stretch the truth to accomplish this. He told Leven as the reality of her craftsmanship, “Exceptionally! Everything is in check, Sir!” 

Agent 2319 stood there, incredibly still the whole time. Leven carefully nodded at the droid before he took two steps forward, facing her the same way he faced R8. He glared down at her with the same investigative eyes. His voice was low, only for Agent 2319 to hear. But R8 could still read it. “Congratulations. You completed the task correctly.” His voice lingered.

Agent 2319 did not respond. She understood to not speak unless prompted a specific question. That was the nature of their relationship – of all relationships Agent 2319 had. 

He leaned in closer, “For a second there, I thought you would for once finish before 2522.”

She remained still.

Finally, he gave a prompt, “What happened?”

She knew exactly what happened. So she explained, “When making the connection between the droid’s intelligence core and it’s muscle movement adapter, I deemed it necessary to double check my placement of the connecting wires. The action ultimately cost me time.” 

“So, you hesitated?” Leven confirmed, voice raised to a comfortable tone. 

Agent 2319 said, “Correct, Sir.”

“Say it then.”

“I hesitated.” She obeyed.

“Louder. So that 2522 can hear you.” Leven ordered, his words turning unforgivingly harsh.

Agent 2319 raised her voice, as instructed, “I hesitated.”

“Are you going to hesitate on the field?”

“No, sir.”

He reaches a hand outward to her, two fingers extended to ever so slightly raise her chin. Agent 2319 knew that she must keep her head held high in humiliation. He would do this often, to remind her. Even after Agent 2319 and Lieutenant Leven would part ways, she would still feel these two fingers pressed against her chin, pulling her face upward to meet opposing forces with dignity, with strength. But most importantly, no sign of embaressment. 

There was something about Agent 2319, perhaps her incredible promise shown through her performances, maybe her droid-like mannerisms, that made Lieutenant Leven specifically want her to fail here. That way, she’ll never fail in the future. Lieutenant Leven understood the nature of being an Agent of The First Order. He understood that most are killed due to small tiny mistakes, little white lies, or the slightest miscalculation. Thus, he became nitpicky with her. He did not accept anything but perfection. His goal was to break her as many times as possible, then build her back up until she becomes an indestructible force. A sharpened weapon for The First Order’s use, personally melded and shaped by him. This girl wasn’t his student… She was his creation.

He pulled his fingers away from her chin, only to allow his hand to pull back, striking the back of hand to her cheek. The sound of skin striking skin resonated throughout the whole room. All the other droids and Agents that once were so talkative, then fell silent. 

The only one completely unphased by the action is Agent 2319. She did not blink nor flinch, not even tremor with the pain that must have been sent throughout her. 

_Good,_ thought Lieutenant Leven. _Very good._

He gave her a slight nod, then moved on to congratulate Agent 2522 on a job well done. He spoke in a manner to be sure that Agent 2319 could hear.

5D-R8 looked over at Agent 2319 to see her reaction. 

He found that there was none.

 

 

The agents were also assigned their first ever solo-dormitories that day. They were used to sleeping in rooms with several beds, making privacy a foreign concept. As Agent 2319 walked through the halls, catching glimpses into open doors with each step, she found that many of the other agents only ended up congregating with each other anyways. She saw Agent 2110, a Togruta girl, bouncing up and down on her bed, smiling at some statement her droid made. Agents are supposed to be blank slates. Clay for The First Order to form to their bidding. Many of the Agents did not exhibit this. They had personal lives. They had friends. 

Agent 2319 was glad she did not fall for such traps. She was wise enough to know that they would only cause trouble in the future.

Agent 2319 led herself into her room, the room across from the Togruta girl. She closed the door behind her. 

5D-R8 watched as she unpacked her uniforms to orderly hang them in the wardrobe. She then crossed the room to examine the kitchen area carefully. 

“I am proficient in preparing meals,” R8 began, “If you are hungry, Agent 2319. I know of all the nutritional items you need for your weight and height ratio. I also take account your muscle density and-”

“No.” She said.

“Oh,” The simple statement caught the droid off-guard, “I am sorry. I do not understand what you are trying to communicate.”

“I can make my own food.” She said, voice so steady, so stern.

She opened the fridge, scanning the items carefully. For now, R8 would oblige. He watched as she did not at all prepare her food and opted to grab a handful of raw vegetables. She grabbed a plate from the cabinet and placed them in the center. Then, she placed the plate on the table. She ate them there, staring at the metal wall of the new apartment the whole time. 

 

It took a few weeks, but Agent 2319 eventually began using R8 the way he was programmed to be used. R8 soon made every meal. He recorded all her training stats. He accompanied her everywhere, just as all the other droids did with their masters. But R8 could not help but notice the discrepancies in dialogue between those Agents and Agent 2319. She did not talk when she did not have an order to present R8 with. She was not preoccupied with filling the silence with banter. She did not want to say anything more than she absolutely had to. And the way she talked to R8… So crisp, so to-the-point. R8 told himself to not process her disengagement as a personal insult, as this is just the way she is with everyone. But R8 could not stop running the scenario through his head of his programming being inadequate compared to the other droids.

 

 

And it took three months of being conjoined at her hip for her to say something to him that was purely conversational. It came out of nowhere, with no warning. Every day was like the one before, the same rigorous training routine. 

Agent 2319 turned off the lights, lied in her bed, giving the regular nightly command to the droid, “Read me my stats.”

R8 did. He started going through her accuracy rate in the shooting range, her running times on the track, her strength-building exercise results. 

She listened while closing her eyes, as usual, lying on her back. 

After R8 concluded his statement, he waited for Agent 2319 to say, “That will be all.” As she always does. But that night she did not. 

She merely stayed still, eyes shut, lying on her back.

It was quiet. Quieter than most nights, considering the absence of her dismissal. R8 could make the assumption that she forgot to say the simple sentence. Perhaps tonight, she is just too tired to bother. But just in case, he stood at her bedside for one more moment.

And in that moment, she finally said, “5D-R8,”

“Yes, Master.” The droid beamed, ready to respond to whatever request the agent had for him.

She kept her eyes closed. Face relaxed. But her tone was so heavy, so tired, “What do you do after I fall asleep?”

“I enter sleep mode as well! This ensures that I reserve power and assess information clearly.” The droid explains enthusiastically. 

“What does that…” Her voice cracked slightly. A major spike was created in R8’s voice analyzer. “What does that feel like?”

“It is not within my programming to process emotion or feeling.” R8 knew answering this way may be a deterrent in a progressing conversation. This is the one question she had for him. But the answer was inevitable when considering it’s coding.

There was nod, barely visible. Agent 2319 understood and did not expect more. “Right…” She responded, the answer so obvious. She didn’t know why she asked in the first place. _Stupid._

R8 decided to ask the Agent his own question, an effort to continue what may be his best chance at a conversation all while comprehending her thought process, “Why do you ask this?” 

She pondered it. Her eyes fluttered open. Her lips even parted. But R8 never got an answer. 24.5 seconds passed before a response. No. Not a response. A different question, “Do you ever wish it was within your programming… to feel?”

R8 answered with all honestly, once again, “Desire is yet another emotion. I would not be able to process it. So, to answer your question, no.”

Her lip quivered slightly. R8 took note of this. Her eyes were glued onto the ceiling. She exhaled slowly, then turned on her side, away from the droid. R8, from over top of her could tell that her eyes were still open. She did not know that R8 knew this, however. R8 took note of this too. So many discrepancies that. Perhaps this just plays in line with probability. The probability of her asking such outlandish questions, of her not falling asleep on her back, of her voice notably under stress, was just a random outlier in her overall behavior. Perhaps the following night would be just like every other. Normal. 

She said quietly, "That will be all."

The droid went to the corner of the room, where he powered down. But tonight, he did not run that process immediately. Instead he paused the process to notice her body curl more into itself and her arms reach for the covers to wrap more tightly around her frame. R8 checked the room's temperature with it's thermal detector. It's the perfect temperature adjusted to her comfort, as always. 

 

 

R8 would remember this night and analyze it to an extent most would deem unnecessary. It wasn't unnecessary, though. It would just take a long time and more insight into the true nature of Agent 2319 for R8 to realize what she was really asking him. A very long time, it was.

But one day he did, in fact, comprehend what it all meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lil insight in what agent 2319's "childhood" was like! always a fun time!! also lieutenant leven is like a fulled fleshed character in my mind but i just havent written him because he's kinda a huge ass hat and there's already so much going on already, he doesn't really fit anywhere. it was nice to mention his name tho and give him some dialogue, even though his presence has been mentioned briefly in the main fic.  
> i hoped you guys enjoyed this one! it's kinda different, but i enjoyed writing it! it's been something i've thought about for awhile! :)


	4. Inebriation (Kylo Ren POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Kylo Ren  
> Time: Chapters 16 - 17  
> \+ Deleted Scenes

A mouse droid zips across the command deck.

Kylo Ren stared at it for the entire duration Officer Tilo spoke. The man is short, somewhat plump. Old and grey, pompous and self-dignified. He spoke with vigor about the financial consequences of The Resistance’s attack. He tried so hard to seem unafraid, but the unmoving trepidation projecting from others, including the Officer, still existed. Kylo didn’t tap into it, uninterested in the sensation. He knew exactly what he would find if he would. What he would feel. The anxiety that weighs on each word, each syllable coming out through a closed chest. Definitely not the strong, sure nature that this man’s voice is able to carry.

The mouse droid veers right, avoiding three stormtroopers marching down the bridge. 

Suddenly, the man’s voice stops. 

Kylo Ren looks to the Officer to find him patiently waiting for an answer.

Unsure of the question, Kylo briskly responds, “Very well.” 

The trepidation once lingering the air is diminished. Relief. But still, with everyone Kylo Ren meets, they are at least slightly on edge. Usually. There is an exception. Kylo Ren pushes the Agent from his mind, once again. His attention reverts back to the mouse droid. 

The Officer walks away with a brief, “Thank you, Sir.”

Kylo Ren begins the opposite direction, back toward his office. He wonders how much longer today will drag on, longing for the comfort of his apartment. He might just go insane if he does not meditate soon. Pushing down today’s events will only result in more anger, more explosive responses. Such power demands to be dealt with, but with all the things to handle here after the attack, Kylo Ren doesn’t find himself dealing with it. His fists clench at his side.

She came here to get a reaction from him. To instigate. Organa assumes that she causes a weakness in him. She doesn’t. If anything, he is a weakness to her. He can use that to his advantage, in the future. He could lure her in to be killed by The Order. She was here, so close to them, so vulnerable. He could’ve ordered Agent 2319 to kill her on the spot. He could have not cared about either of them. Kylo Ren imagines what Supreme Leader Snoke would say to him, how proud he would be. But he isn’t. Because that’s not how Kylo handled Organa’s attack. Not at all.

Kylo’s fists clench tighter.

The mouse droid his headed straight for him, it appears. As it closes in on his location, the droid rolls to a stop, stormtroopers coming from the right and Kylo coming from the left making it impossible for the droid to continue it’s weaving person to person on the skinny bridge. 

Kylo stops too, staring down at the droid. 

Suddenly, the droid lets out a squeal of terror and speeds around him in escape. 

Kylo sighs, continuing forward. 

The sight reminds him of how quick Agent was to dart away from him, once he revealed that he knew about her ploy. Foolish girl. Did she think he’d be tricked into thinking that she was anything more than a tool of The First Order? That’s her job; fooling people into thinking she’s something other than what she is. He wonders if she’s ever felt anything genuinely, or if she’s mastered the art of manufacturing her emotions to fit into whatever role she must play. Even if it’s the later, does she feel those emotions too? Even the fake ones?

Kylo supposes it doesn’t matter.

He always knew, in the back of his mind, that she was only manipulating him. He always knew that she was trying to make him feel special by revealing herself to him bit by bit, each time more appealing than the last, only to get whatever it is she wanted from him. Kylo is still not sure he knows what exactly it is she wants. Not yet. Approval is his best guess, as that is what all First Order members are trained to desire. Either way, her charade was so perfectly executed from the beginning. And Kylo fell for it at first. He thinks back to the look on her face when he revealed that he knew that he was no longer succumbing to the façade. That he knew she was only a manipulative drone, uncaring, uninvolved. She was so defeated by his revelation. Perfect Agent 2319 overestimated her strengths, her charisma. 

Perhaps he finally made her feel something, something similar to what she’s been able to make him feel… Weakness.

He used to wonder what it was that she did when he was not with her, unable to even comprehend what that would look like. But Kylo knows now. She’s most likely in her dormitory, staring at a blank wall, waiting for her next order, dormant until The Order needs her for something else. Because that’s what she is – their tool. Nothing more interesting. Nothing more sentimental. He would’ve saved himself a lot of time and spared his mind of a lot of depraved thoughts if he would have accepted this truth sooner.

Upon making his way to the other side of the command deck, Kylo Ren notices that the exterior of Hux’s office seems to be busier than usual. Naturally, considering the recent attack, Kylo Ren assumes. He walks past the troopers crowding the door. It’s easy considering they all part ways, energy surrounding them bathed in fear as usual. 

But there’s something else too. 

Something so uncertain, hanging above all the other sources of energy. A haze. An incoherence. Kylo Ren curiously zeros in on the projection, trying to make sense of it. He stops the strides forward to stare at the door to the General’s office. The projection is so easy to manipulate, so easy to intrude on. Almost like putty. Also, it’s dizzy, wobbling, so unsteady. So damn loud.

But it’s nostalgic, more than anything. It’s the night Han Solo would drink in seclusion rather than with Lando Calrissian or in the atmosphere of a party. When he would escape to the Falcon to be by himself, away from Leia, away from Chewbacca… away from Ben. Ben didn’t ever see his father like this, Han would not let anyone. But Ben could feel it from his room. He looked outside his window on Chandrila, able to see the Falcon resting seemingly quiet against the vast green field outside the house. Yet, it wasn’t quiet for Ben, nor for Han. The fear, the loneliness, the isolation. Ben shivers. It’s the same thing, right now. He used to wonder why his father would feel those things, he used to debate going out to the Falcon to provide him company, to see if his father was okay. Something always stopped him. The fear that Ben’s company wasn’t only the last thing Han would want, but also the reason why Han felt the need to drink himself to such a state of disembodiment.

Ben’s never been drunk himself, but he’s thought about what it would feel like, beyond what he can feel from the projections. Perhaps if he weren’t so scared of himself, he would try it. 

But if Ben cannot control himself sober, how could he possibly go about it under the influence? Let alone, Ben knows that if it works – if the alcohol allows him to escape his own mind, giving him the escape he desires – Ben would surely be the galaxy’s biggest alcoholic. Any promise previously held in The Force lost to a lifetime of addiction and impairment. 

Surely, the projection’s source cannot be General Hux. The man’s a psychopath. Such a range of emotions cannot be brought out from him, even with the galaxy’s full supply of hard liquors. 

Kylo Ren turns to the closet stormtrooper to ask, “What issue is General Hux attending to?”

The trooper’s posture shoots up, immediately complying with Ren’s powerful presence to answer, “An altercation arose at the cantina. An officer was attacked by an inebriated agent. Injuries sustained are currently broken nose, mild concussion-”

Kylo’s hand rises, silencing the trooper. 

Surely it can’t be…

It’s definitely not her. That’s impossible.

Agent 2319’s record is completely clean. Kylo Ren recently read over her the expanse of all her files and any files that connect to hers. He tells himself it was for research purposes. Let alone, he cannot see Agent 2319 indulging in alcohol. At all. She’s uptight. Orderly. Well behaved. Droid. But all those classifications cannot stop him from opening the door to Hux’s office, succumbing to his curiosity. 

No fucking way.

It’s her. But it’s not her at all. As she looks back at him, glazed-over eyes squinting, he can’t help but notice the once tightly combed back hair, usually pulled into a low sophisticated bun, is now a ratted mess at the nape of her neck. Her mouth is parted, eyes narrowing at Ren as it took a moment for her to recognize him. Her jaw snaps, clenching down at what must be a painful pressure.

Fiery, completely inhumane anger, pierces the force, blending into the wobbly intoxication Kylo Ren once tapped into. The sensation of nausea overcomes Ren. He pushes her projections as far from his mind to keep his sobriety, to keep his composure. Immediately, Kylo Ren questions why she’s here. With Hux. Hux doesn’t handle these issues. “General,” Kylo begins, voice steadying to ask, “What is your business with her?” 

The General stands up pridefully. Kylo nearly rolls his eyes at the gesture. His voice is almost mocking his knowledge on the situation versus Kylo’s unawareness when he says, “Your Agent has recently been involved in quite the altercation with an officer.”

Kylo looks down towards Agent, her face redder than he thought it could possibly get. She sinks into the chair further, an attempt to make herself seem smaller. A million questions flood Kylo’s mind. What did the officer do to her? Is she okay? Why was she drinking in the first place?

Shit.

Everything Kylo Ren said to her comes back to him. 

What if… What if she did go seek out Organa because she actually managed to care for him? Because she genuinely saw their relationship as something with mutual respect; where she helps him, he helps her? What if she actually had even a sliver of compassion and Kylo said all those awful things about her?

Kylo knows that engaging himself into the lie, yet again, would only leave him hurt by her tactics, yet again. He pulls himself away from the silly thoughts, only to be replaced by the millions of questions all summarized by one word; Why?

Pulled out of his thoughts, her hands slap at the chair’s arms, pushing her body upwards to stand. She holds her head high as she says, “Bye,” quickly turning on her heel. She overestimated how much she would turn, her body forced to pause to readjust her trajectory towards the doorway Kylo stands. 

Kylo doesn’t move, assuming she’ll stop and give him a few answers to his million questions, but her feet remain carrying her forward. Suddenly, with a stumble, her weight shifts towards Kylo’s, Kylo immediately reaching out to steady her. He tries his best to hold her up in a way which her balance would return as quickly as possible, but her body doesn’t cooperate, limp and leaning further into his grasp. She feels so small, so frail, so exactly opposite to what she is. Kylo tries his best to not think about how she feels and how it makes him feel to feel her.

Hux shoos her away, saying “I’m done with her for now.”

Kylo clenches his jaw at the statement. He tries to think of something to say back, something in defense of Agent, something to make Hux out to be the fool in the room rather than her. But before he can, Agent squirms away from Kylo’s grip, darting around him and down the Base’s hallway. Shit.

Hux smugly nods towards the door, prompting Ren to fetch her before anything too embarrassing can come of the situation. With a huff, Kylo turns on his heel and follows after her. 

Her steps take her from walking all the way up against the right side of the hall to the very left. Kylo looks behind him, making sure no one else is here to witness this. He hurries his strides approaching her. Her body leans to the right. Just as Ren reaches out to catch her, stopping her fall, she suddenly flips around to face him. Kylo pulls his hand back to his side abruptly, looking down at her expression. 

Her eyebrows are furrowed, nose scrunched, tone incredibly sloppy as she slurs, “Fuck you.”

After saying it, she sways, taking in a deep breath as if she’s proud of herself for saying such an expletive. Ren frowns. 

He figures to ask, straight up, focusing his voice to be as calm and collected as possibly, much like her voice usually is, “Are you upset with me?”

She audibly gasps, turning back around to strut down the hallway, away from him. With each dramatic stomp, her feet carry her closer to the wall, until she’s basically laying against it as she moves forward. Kylo hates the fact that a small smile forms at his lips at the sight of her. He must admit that it’s amusing, to see her in such a state. It is so incredibly ludicrous. She’s acting as if she’s a toddler.

Ren catches back up to her, blocking her path. 

Immediately, at the sight of her, he forgets what he was planning to say, what he was planning to do. Her hair messily frames her sweaty face, eyes so alive with passionate rage. He swallows hard, pressing his energy back into all the fury she projects. It’s nearly sizzling, embers popping in the air around them. It’s so vibrant, so rich. So human. 

So beautiful. 

Then, “Your mask is so fucking dumb.”

Kylo scoffs, taken out of the infatuation that once drowned him. “Let’s just get you back to your room.”

She leans forward, unmoved by his suggestion to hiss, “Your lightsaber is dumb too.”

Kylo immediately shushes the ignorant girl. If she only knew of the epic battle between the Jedi Order and Ancient Sith Empire in the Great Scourage of Malachor, she would understand the origins for the saber's elegant design. The combination of such ancient elements with Kylo’s own personal modern modifications make it the exact opposite of dumb. Not to mention the blade’s outstanding power, begging to be balanced with the heat exhaust’s cross blade. 

It is really cool.

The uncultured, tasteless agent snaps back, “Don’t fucking shush me, I can talk as loud as I-”

“Agent.” He cuts her off, peering down the hallway for any stormtroopers. It seems that they cleared out. Luckily, no one has been a subject to her inane blasphemous statements besides Kylo Ren.

She fires back, once again, “Fuck you.”

She starts walking down the hall again. She makes it about three steps before stopping in hesitation. She turns around, then starts walking the other way, past Ren’s presence, unconcerned with his view on her directional confusion. There’s no way she will make it back to her room at this rate. Let alone, without anyone bothering her or citing her for public intoxication on Base.

Kylo reaches out but cannot find the confidence within himself to make contact with her. His hand nearly ghosts at her shoulder, completely aware that she does not want to be touched by him, and completely aware that such an action may be the thing to set her off again. 

In a pleading attempt to get her to calm down, he says as gently as he can manage with the mask on, “You made yourself clear on your distaste for me. Just let me get you back to your room safely.”  
She stares back at him. Confusion mixes in with the simmering anger, stalling it, pushing it back. Why is she confused? Is Kylo Ren really wanting her to be in her room, safe, a confusing desire of his for her to accept?

He pushes the word out, attempting to ease the second guesses about his motivations, “Please.”

She stares at him wide-eyed, then glances down at his hands that now have found their place lingering over her arms protectively. 

Her eyes narrow again, “You idiot, R8 can’t see me like this. He thinks I went to go train or something. Fuck. He’ll be able to tell I’m drunk, I’m sure of it.” Her trembling hands run through her hair as panic replaces the projection confusion. Stress, paranoia.

Kylo, desperate to ease the emotions, lowers his voice, straining to make it sound nonthreatening, inviting, “You can sleep in my quarters, it’s alright.”

She barks back immediately, “NO.”

Kylo shushes her, letting his hands fall to his own sides. He tries not to take the rejection personally. But upon thinking over what he asked, he can’t help but wonder if she took the request the wrong way. If she assumes that he’s trying to manipulate her, that he’s trying to take advantage of her. He thinks back to her beating a man at the cantina, wondering if maybe the man’s advances triggered it. Kylo Ren can’t close off other’s thoughts about Agent. Sometimes he doesn’t want to, subsiding his jealousy to only allow himself to feel validated in his opinions on her appearance. He tells himself it’s normal to think she’s beautiful, because she is. It’s a simple fact. It doesn’t mean anything more than that. 

Shit. The last thing he wants is for Agent to believe he doesn’t care for her well-being, that he’s only trying to lure her back to his room. His own panic sets in, conjuring up a different plan that can get her safe without her feeling violated, “There’s probably an open dormitory you can sleep in. I’ll open one up for you. And I’ll tell R8 that you were with me.”

She stares at the floor for a bit, clenching hard at her fists. Kylo frowns, wanting to tell her to relax, to tell her that she can sit down for a moment if she needs to, but knowing the comfort will only be met with more malice, with more anger. Kylo knows this because he has been there as well. The difference is his immaturity does not need to be kindled by liquor. 

She lets out a defeated, “Fine.” 

With that, she allows Kylo to walk next to her as she crosses her arms, staring down at the ground. With each step, she seems weaker, more unsteady. Kylo stays on guard the whole time, ready to catch her if she falls. She drags her body against the wall, shoulder hitting each panel of light, causing her body to bounce outward, then back into the structure. 

Kylo watches her carefully from her preferred distanced until they reach the elevator. Kylo reaches forward, pressing the button to open it and Agent enters the side closet to the keypad. He waits for her patiently as the doors close shut. She just stares at the various buttons.

When Kylo reaches out to press the 10th floor, where the most recent dormitory editions are, Agent snaps, “I can do it.”

Kylo swallows, pulling his hand back. “Okay.”

She stares harder at the keypanel, trying so hard to remember where it is she’s going and why. More confusion. More anger. Her fists clench. 

“Tenth floor.” Kylo says softly, trying not to sound orderly. The mask doesn’t communicate his tone well.

She snaps, “I know.” She jabs her finger towards the button, missing it at first, but then correcting her aim. The elevator moves upwards and she retreats to the far wall, head away from his.

Kylo can only stare at her as she wraps arms around herself, body turned away. He can’t help but open his mind back up to her projections to find an incomprehensible amount of sadness radiating from her. Loneliness. Her body slightly trembles, a sight that makes Kylo’s chest tighten. The question floats around his mind more intensely; why? 

Suddenly, as if her legs gave out from underneath her, she slides to the ground. 

Before Kylo can say anything, she defensively snaps, still looking away, “I just want to sit.”

“That’s okay.” He says. He keeps his mask looking straight ahead, but eyes down at her curled-up body. She picks at her cuticles furiously, fingernails latching onto the skin to pinch and pull it off. He winces when she’s successful. He responds to the pain she ignores. 

The elevator stalls and sliding doors hiss open.

She seems unaware, still focused on her hands. Kylo extends his own hand downward to her, offering it to assist her in standing. 

Agent glances at it, then immediately looks away. She leans against the wall furthest from him to try to hoist herself upwards. The movement is unsteady, ultimately causing her to fall back to the floor, as if gravity is significantly stronger for her.

Kylo, too afraid to physically reach out once again, opts for a verbal explanation, “Let me help.”

“No,” She mumbles, “I can do it.” Her hands scramble at the elevators walls drunkenly trying to grab onto something. 

Kylo glances out the elevator, catching the gaze of a stormtrooper looking inward at the sight. The trooper hurriedly looks away. 

When Kylo’s attention turns back downward to Agent, he sees that she’s given up, only to be staring at him in a raging disappointment. No more sadness, just pure stubborn anger.

She spits towards him, “If I am so embarrassing, fucking leave.”

“Get up.” Kylo says, motioning her upwards.

“I didn’t ask for you to be around me.”

Kylo fights the urge to look back at the trooper, surely staring at the two of them now if ever. He orders, trying to implement more authority, “Get up.”

“I explicitly didn’t want you near me.”

“Just let me-”

“Leave me alone.”

“I will, once-”

“Please.” 

That word is missing the malice of her previous ones. They stare at eachother, Agent’s expression softening, Kylo’s mask hiding any compassion his own expression is overcome by. He notices a glimmer in her eyes and a tremble of her lips. She’s never looked so young. She looks away from him back to the ground to only defeatedly try to stand again to no avail. When her body falls back to the floor, she whimpers softly, messy hair shielding her face from his. She curses quietly, a word only meant for Kylo to hear to add an edge to her sadness. It’s no use though. Kylo can feel everything she’s feeling through the projection.

He can’t help but reach down to her frail frame, scooping her up into his arms. He anticipated that she would swat at him or squirm away. So, when she doesn’t, he’s taken aback. She’s so light. And he’s glad she isn’t putting up any fight, considering the action of picking her up in of itself made Kylo so unsure, he probably would’ve backed away from it the moment she began to resist him. Instead, she easily folds into his grasp, body leaning into his. Yet, her arms remain crossed, as if to taunt Kylo that she’s not enjoying this, that he is merely a method for transportation. Kylo readjusts his arm hooked under her knees, then the one cradling her back.

He reassures, “We’re almost there. Then I’ll leave.”

He finally steps out of the elevator, the one other stormtrooper in the hallway now walking the opposite direction, pretending like he wasn’t watching the whole encounter. Usually Kylo would care. He finds himself caring far too much about how every last stormtrooper perceives him and this will not be good for his reputation. But he keeps his focus downward on the Agent, who is staring silently on her own lap. More embarrassment is projected.

Kylo looks upward, easing her of the feeling of his gaze. 

There should be a few open dormitories at the end of the hall to the right. He holds onto her tighter, trying to make his usual heavy steps softer to keep her stable in his arms. In his arms. 

He reminds himself how much she despises the necessity of it to distract himself from the reality of what is happening. He’s holding her. He feels the sweat form at his palms, his face redden, as if he’s now the drunken child. She hates this. Don’t succumb to the idea of it. It’s wrong to revel in something she is so opposed to.

Then, he feels her head press into the crook of his neck.

She’s so warm, so small. He nearly trips at the sensation. She fits there nicely. He can’t help but curiously look into the projections the Force is sending to find less tension, more relaxation. She’s exhausted. He tries to avoid thoughts of what it would feel like to hold her as she sleeps, to sit down and let her surrender to slumber as he pushes the hair from her eyes, as her body curls against his. He’s so glad she doesn’t have The Force, that all these thoughts are completely unknown to her. He wonders if she is haunted in sleep by nightmares of her own. Or, perhaps she escapes to slumber for dreams. 

No mindless drone of The First Order would have gone out alone, drunk themselves to near death, beat up a man, let themselves out of General Hux’s office, only to need to be put in a separate dormitory to avoid repercussions from a droid. 

No member of The First Order would have boarded his mother’s ship peacefully, to protect him. No member of The First Order would have blown their cover in an assassination plot out of guilt. No member of The First Order is like her at all.

A deep fear, yet great desire, is suddenly confirmed.

She is different.

And he was wrong.

 

 

Kylo Ren enters the very last room in the hall, one that surely is unoccupied. This one will also be the furthest from occupied ones. He carefully sets her down to her feet, making sure no movement is harsh, allowing her to regain her balance easily. “Will this be okay?”

She revolts away from his steadying arms, darting away from him. She almost falls into the nearest wall, Kylo reaching out to catch her, only to retreat as soon as she catches herself. “Whatever.” She mumbles, unimpressed. 

She stands there, completely still for a moment. Just staring straight ahead. Kylo cocks his head, wondering what she’s doing. What she’s thinking about. What she’s waiting for. She should get into bed, if she’s so tired.

Kylo swallows hard, pushing saliva down his dry throat. He can’t leave her like this. Can he? He orders, “Lay down.”

Her head turns slowly towards his, gaze locked on him. Her eyes narrow again, so cat-like, so vicious. She stands up straighter. It’s as if she sees him as a threat. How can she, after everything? Sure, he’s said stupid things, but surely, she must understand his point of view of it all. How odd this whole situation is, not only for her, but for him.

Kylo begins, “You know,” She perks up, immediately ready to refute anything he’s about to say. So defensive. Kylo continues anyways, “I do not wish to see any harm put upon you.”

She turns, aligning her body towards his. There’s an extra layer of courage that the alcohol brings out in her. “I do not wish for you to see me at all. Ever.” 

Kylo frowns. Her attitude, these pointless jabs at him, is only a tired defense-mechanism. He cannot believe he actual made her feel as if she needed to equip herself with such tactics, after such a silly misunderstanding of intentions, on both of their parts. Surely, she’s must’ve been in more consequential arguments before. Kylo sure has. Most made their small altercation seem tame. “I didn’t think that meaningless words would hurt you that much.”

“Stop saying it hurt me.”

“But it did.” Kylo approaches her, trying to get a better look at her expression in the darkness of the room. A small window lining the far ceiling casts starlight across her face, moist with sweat and dug downward in exhaustion. So damn human, he wonders how he could’ve convinced himself anything different.

She steps back from him, rejecting the advance, her face once again shadowed in darkness, “What, are you proud of yourself?”

“I’m not,” Such a conclusion is ridiculous to come to. “Your pain is not within my best interest.” He tilts his head to get a better look at her softening expression. He really didn’t mean the statement to be sentimental, but he can see it take her off guard. What a life she must live if someone saying they do not wish to inflict pain on her is a testament of sentiment. How could her soul not have completely hardened? “If I’m being honest, I am slightly relieved, though.”

The naturally defensive approach consumes her once again. “What the fuck?”

Kylo explains, simply, “I underestimate your humanity sometimes.” His throat contracts, begging to confess to her just a fraction of what she does to him. He hesitates. And in fleeting moment of bravery, he manages, “It’s refreshing when I do see it. Exciting, even.”

“My humanity,” Her eyes dart around him, taking the statement in, taking his figure in. Kylo remains quiet, patiently awaiting for whatever angry response she has to offer him back. He must admit, as much as he does not want her to feel angry, he truly does enjoy seeing it manifest inside of her, bubbling out to a rage, equipping her with accusations such as, “How dare you be refreshed by my humanity when you make yourself out to be a faceless killing machine.” 

He withholds a chuckle at the way ‘faceless killing machine’ sounded more like ‘faceluss killin’ mwahcine’ with her slurred accent. He understands what she meant. And she’s right. Partly because he wishes to surrender to her requests, partly because he’s missed seeing her with his real eyes, no mask visor hiding or tinting any part of her presence, he reaches up to remove his mask. Faceless killing machine. That’s what he’s supposed to be. That’s what he needs to be for the war. 

She looks so much more real with his mask off, skin so much more textured, eyes that much more vibrant. And yet, as she stares at his exposed face, he can only wish for the mask to be back on. This… this look of taking him in completely, of nearly consuming his appearance with her wide eyes, terrifies him. He knows full well that he could look into the Force projection to see what she’s thinking, but what he could find intimidates him far too much. He tosses the helmet to the bed, slamming the lightsaber once attached to his belt beside it. The whole movement was much more aggressive that he intended, along with a snapping, “There.”

She doesn’t respond to the aggressive insecurities Kylo brought into the equation. She only continues her observations, lips parting, index finger twitching. Her eyes dart across the expanse of his face, scanning every last inch of him. Kylo pushes down the embarrassment. He can’t help but go onto his own defensive, it being easier to imagine she’s going to trick him, to manipulate him. To hurt him. She’s not looking at him with anything more than what spectators gaze at monsters with. It’s nothing more. She can’t possibly be looking at him the way he looks at her. In awe of how the mere sight of her can be so comforting, so oddly pure despite the impurity of her life course. Kylo cranes back the urge to put the mask back on, toes curling into his boots. 

“As you were saying. My humanity…” She says, her voice sounding brass under it’s gentle overtone.

He can’t help but be hyper aware of her eyes on his lips as he speaks, “It’s refreshing. To see you not conform.” He purses them out of insecurity before he moves on. “To see you go against everything you were once taught. I enjoy watching you grow, develop yourself outsider of The Order.”

She looks back in her eyes, confused. “Your Order. You called me a traitor. You told me I don’t belong here. Now you’re saying that those things refresh you?”

She is a traitor. She doesn’t belong here. “Correct.” And that’s why she’s so damn interesting. Because Kylo too was a traitor, because Kylo used to feel as if he didn’t belong.  
Was. Used to.

Sometimes, it still doesn’t feel that far.

She clenches her fists, anger coming in a wave back over her. He responds with no response. Before he can process her movements, the anger bubbles over, a quick hand snatching the lightsaber atop of the mattress.

She fucking ignites it, like the batshit crazy drunk she is.

Kylo resists the urge to double backwards, in pure shock of her action. She is heavily intoxicated and wielding his lightsaber. Probably his most prized possession. Holy shit, if she breaks it, Supreme Leader Snoke would not be happy. Hell, Kylo would not be happy. But if anything, it’ll harm her before she manages to harm it. 

Kylo steps towards her, trying not to seem on edge, trying not to seem completely anxiety-ridden. He can only imagine that his face says otherwise. “Give that to me. Now.” 

She laughs in his face, pointing the blade at him. He can feel the heat radiating at the tip, just inches from his throat. He swallows hard, scooting backwards, hands up in surrender. “How dare you think my inner turmoil is refreshing.” Such overly dramatic words for her. Her face is illuminated red from the blade, the saber now the main light source in the room. “How dare you find humor in my agitation towards you.” A surge of rage pulsates through the Force, sizzling to a dangerously searing temperature. “How dare you say that I don’t belong here and then come find me and pretend you did nothing wrong. Like you didn’t just destroy any sense of purpose I had here to begin with.”

Now she’s blatantly blaming him for her own feelings, her own repressed desires. 

Before he can argue her claims, the lightsaber swings into the dresser besides them. It splits in nearly one movement, Kylo using his forearms to shield himself from the flying sparks. She grunts furiously and hits it again, slashing it horizontally. 

Holy shit, she’s gone mad.

Kylo licks his dry lips, watching her repeatedly attack the dresser, showing no remorse, no mercy. He’s completely forgotten his motive to stop her.

“I was perfect before I met you,” She screams at him, violently attacking the mattress now. Debris flies around the room in a haze, the lightsaber’s image becoming red blurs in Kylo’s vision. “You ruined everything I ever worked for,” As the mattress is demolished, stuffing flies in the air, some catching fire as they do. Kylo carefully steps on them as they hit the ground, putting the fire out, all while remaining entranced with Agent’s fit. “How dare you ruin my life!”

Blaming him, so relentlessly. It holds her back. He pushes it, pressing the topic forward, “Did you really put much value on the life you led before this?”

“That doesn’t matter!” She drives the blade into the nightstand with a brutal war-cry grunt. “You-” another slash “-don’t get to-” another slash “-assume that-” another “-I didn’t!”

She stops. 

As she looks back at Kylo, it just occurs to him that he could’ve stopped her at any time. He didn’t have to watch her demolish this room in the name of her hatred of him, of what she thinks is his doing. But the rage, still so present in the Force… The sweat beading from her brow. The way her shoulders heave in deep heavy breaths. Her messy hair. Clenched muscles. Fiery eyes. 

It’s as if he’s fantasizing it. Reality could not be so kind, to supply him with such a deconstructed, raw view on her. 

Then, pulling him out of her spell, she says, no more intoxication slurring her words, no more insecurity, no more wavering tone, “I want to destroy you like you destroyed me.”

It all clicks. How scared she must be. How enabling he is of all her fear. Why? Because it entertains him? Because he thinks that he can live out his inane freedom fantasies through her? He thought… some part of him believed that when he was with her, he was supplying her with a way to be her true self, because he isn’t a general or officer or any kind of First Order stickler. 

But she’s never been acted out like this before. Never with anyone else. Not with her spotless record. It took her getting pathetically intoxicated for her to even allow herself the privilege. It’s all been festering within her for years. And Kylo’s been playing with it, toying at it, like it was his to unleash, his to discover. 

It was never his.

A myriad of guilt overwhelms him.

The same guilt he felt knowing that he was the reason for his father's escape to drinks, alone at night in the Falcon. Is that his permanent effect on people he is around? Driving them to put themselves under the influence to escape from the problems his existing creates?

He reaches out to the Force, using it to freeze every part of her body, making her immobile. He can feel her attempts at squirming, her desperate efforts to free herself. It’s no use.

He approaches her, unable to stop himself from asking, “Is that how I make you feel…” He reaches downward, prying her hand from the hilt of his lightsaber. He presses the switch, the blade retreating back into itself and twisting it from her grasp of which he so easily controls. He hates how easy it is for him. This whole time, he thought he was giving her a place to flourish, to test her limits, when really, she felt deconstructed by it. Violated. Dissected. Gutted. “…Destroyed?”

She’s staring at him again, silent. God, her stare is too intense for him to handle. Too penetrating. He tries to handle it anyways, looking back into her steady eyes. It takes everything to keep himself out of her projections, out of her mind. He releases his hold on her with the Force, hoping it prompts her to answer him, for her to do something other than stare.

She doesn’t for a while.

Then, there’s a silent nod.

It twists at Kylo’s chest. He wasn’t expecting anything different. Just hopeful she would refute his fears. 

He steps back from her, breaking whatever tension was held between them. He exhales, then admits to himself and to her, “Then I should probably leave.” He scans the completely demolished room. He figures the best way to explain the damage to The Order is not to. To just let whatever crew on maintenance assume he had one of his famous Kylo Ren Outbursts. “Would you like me to find you a different room. One more intact?” 

She crosses her arms, shivering. Then nods silently, anger completely resided. That’s good, at least. Hopefully it’s all out of her system for now.

Kylo exits the room, helmet under his arm, and opens the neighboring door with The Force. This room is identical to the last. The bed is made, no supplies or spare items left from the last inhabitant. He glances around for water. Kylo understands that drinking alcohol is dehydrating. She should probably have some water before she sleeps. He crosses towards the kitchen, finding a standard dining set in the cupboard. Setting his helmet down, he takes out a small cup, then fills it to the brim in the sink. He hands it to her without order, without instruction, hoping she is quick to drink it so he can be on his way, no longer such a nuisance to her.

To his surprise, she takes it without resistance. She gulps it down in nearly a second, handing the empty glass to him. 

“Would you like another?” He asks, voice more hushed than he intends. His shoulders hitch at the anticipation for a quick, pissed-off response, refuting him and reminding him of her disdain.

But instead, she gently reassures, “I’m okay.” 

Kylo sets the empty glass back onto the counter, then nods towards the bed. He gives her space as she pushes the covers down to crawl onto the mattress. She’s still in her boots, in her whole uniform. But it doesn’t seem to bother her too much. And Kylo is not going to attempt to help her undress. He tenses. She reaches towards her feet for the blanket, arms not quite reaching, so Kylo opts to grab the covers for her, pulling them over her body. She curls into the sheet’s warmth, staring back up at Kylo, despite him not meeting her gaze at all. He looks back, towards the exit, before turning towards it.

“Are you?” Agent’s two words causes him to freeze completely. He imagines that this is what it feels to be bound by The Force, how she must’ve felt when he detained her to take back his saber.

He forgets what the last thing said was, but knows it has to do with him offering her more water. “I’m not thirsty.” An odd question, but he answers it with normalcy. 

He steps forward, towards the exit, but suddenly, feels her small hand curled against the shape of his wrist. She tugs on it lightly, begging for his attention.

He offers it, turning back towards her, finally looking back into her eyes. The starlight is back to radiating her skin, keeping her bright eyes glowing, very much alive. Not with anger now, though. But still, just as alive. 

“Are you okay?” She elaborates.

Before he can say yes, her thumb slides upwards, under his sleeve to rub steady circles into his skin. Suddenly, he second guesses if he can answer that question truthfully. He doesn’t, “I’m fine.” Her grip doesn’t let up, finger so gentle, so soft. Everything a 180 from just a moment ago. “Are… are you?”

She stares at his wrist, curiously changing the direction of her thumb’s trajectory. She says, so matter-of-factly, “I’m a lot better. I like using your lightsaber when I’m mad.” 

“Oh,” There’s a lightness, an airy femininity to her tone that is unique to the situation. Perhaps a more practical effect of the alcohol, compared to the outrageous outburst. Her eyes flutter back up to him. He can only respond, “Okay.” 

She adjusts herself in the bed to lay on her side, pulling him closer to the edge of the mattress. He stares down at her grip on his wrist. Her knuckles are bloodied. Bruised. Should he be worried about treating that? He says, filling the silence, “You can borrow it when you’re angry to break more things. I do it a lot myself.”

She laughs at that. It’s a comforting sound. Her gaze is warm too, as she looks up to him to ask, “Can I tell you something?”

Kylo is not sure if he wants to hear anything more. He’s heard quite enough. She’s calmed down now, that’s for sure, but this could only offer her with the logic to say something truly hurtful, truly logical, yet all the same honest. He’s confused. She wanted him to leave, and now he is ready to. Why doesn’t she just let him leave? He reaches down, taking her hand away from his wrist, as much as the absence of her touch teases him. He kneels at the bedside, ready to listen, despite every fiber of his being telling him he cannot deal with more reminders of his negative effects on her. Of how he destroyed her. 

Just like he destroys everything else he cares for.

She begins, the words a blubbering mess, “So, sober ‘me’ would never admit to this, I just am feeling courageous and all. And I know I just was really mean to you, and what I said still stands valid. But I am really glad Snoke put me on this mission with you. I was thinking about this earlier, I’ve never felt anything with intensity before. And you made me feel everything all at once and yea, I said that I hate you and I’m mad at you and all, which I am, because you’re a dick kinda, but at the same time, I really really enjoy working with you. And talking to you. And arguing with you.”

Kylo’s jaw clenches. She’s drunk. He reminds himself of that before her words can provide him with any pseudo reassurance.

Then, she sets her head upwards, on her palm, making her gaze level to his, “And looking at you.”

Kylo blushes profusely at that one. 

Don't fall for that. She’s delusional. She’s not in her mind. And Kylo trying to humor any of that behavior would be wrong. Taking advantage of her inebriated state because she is too unaware to say what she really thinks does neither of them good. He glances back to her for the briefest of moment to see her smiling warmly, unconcerned with the confession, not embarrassed by whatever feelings the alcohol tricked her into having. That’s the only conclusion. He quickly looks away and stands to his feet, muttering to the floor, “I should be leaving.”

His chest tightens with each step towards the door, hating himself for wanting her to call out to him, to ask him to stay for just a moment more. He shouldn’t wish to stay with someone who despises his presence so much. How selfish. He reaches for the door.

Then, a cracked voice calls out, “Ren.”

He freezes again, looking over his shoulder at her lying in the bed. No more smiling. Not even the daze of intoxication. It’s just her, lying down.

Her eyebrow creases in trepidation of the words, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Kylo doesn’t either. He still tries to convince her otherwise, thinking it’s a favor for her sober-self, “I thought you didn’t want me around you.”

“I thought so too.”

Like he’s drawn into her magnetic pull, he returns to her. All he's ever really wanted to hear was that his presence isn't an inherently bad thing, something to be escaped from. He notices her shift over in the bed, as if to make room him, but he finds his place kneeling on the floor beside the mattress. He rests his head close to her waist, folding his arms for a makeshift pillow. It’s comfortable. He looks up at her, taking her in as much as he can. He departures from the harsh words she once spoke, finding comfort in the sight of her. The stare that’s intensity once scared him is easier to look back into. It’s more relaxed now. He can observe how her messy hair frames her face, then cascades to the pillow. How smooth her breathing pattern is. Kylo uses it as a guide for his own breathing.

He lets himself sink into the fantasy of falling asleep next to her every night, until it becomes a routine thing. Of always coming back to her, her always coming back to him. Of finally having that constant unwavering affection. Would she want that too? With him? He hopes so. If not tonight, one day. It seems far too good to be true.

Pulling him out of his thoughts of being held by her, she asks directly, “What are you thinking about?”

He merely shakes his head. 

She doesn’t pressure the issue.

They continue staring at each other. Kylo Ren does not tap into the projections of The Force, nor does he feel the need to. But if he did, he would find an overwhelming feeling of longing, projecting from both of them together. It’s equal, in it’s intensity, complimentary in it’s nature. 

Agent says softly, “Can I try something?”

Kylo nods, unable to refute her wishes.

She reaches forward, small hand outstretched towards his face. As soon as the pads of her fingers meet his hairline, he represses a shiver, doing his absolute best to stay still. She carefully combs his hair back, fingertips dragging against his scalp, then tucking the hair behind his ear. He cannot hold back a soft chuckle, partly because of the silliness of her request, also equally because of his nervousness her touch brings. 

She smiles, dragging her hand down the locks of hair, feeling it inbetween her fingers as she moves, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.” He lies.

“Good.” She hums, twisting the hair back and forth before retreating her hand away, back to her side. 

Kylo looks up towards her own hair, sticking to her face in a tangled mess, one strand in particular shielding her eye. Before he can tell himself otherwise not to, he reaches up, mirroring her own movements from just a moment ago. His fingers linger far too long on the soft skin of her face, so close to feeling like silk. Completely unlike the strand of hair he pushes back, matted and tangled. He tucks it into the rest of her chaotic hair, away from her face, careful to not try to comb through it, knowing his fingers would immediately be caught in it’s knots. 

He returns his arm under his head, resuming their long stares at one another. He does not disrupt his fingertips in the movement, trying to keep the feeling of her skin alive on his for as long as he can.

He closes his eyes, letting the feeling of her presence combine with the recollection of feeling her skin. Finally, he opens up the temporary blockade he put up to The Force. She’s projecting comfort. Peace. Light.  
It’s so warm. 

He surrounds himself in her energy, any darkness within him subsiding. There is no power, no lust, no anything. Just warmth. 

Suddenly, her voice combines with the energy, asking him so naively, “Why would you say all those mean things to me after I tried to help you?” She says the question with so much innocent confusion. He opens his eyes, looking up to the girl.

“I didn’t intend to hurt you.” He readjusts his head to see her better. “I thought the only reason that you would be kind to me is if you wanted to manipulate me, if it was part of some game… I was just saying what I thought would make sense. What I thought would protect me.”

She frowns at this explanation. Her body curls in on itself, as if a coldness has spread across the expanse of her skin. “You were wrong.” She whispers.

He relaxes his head back down into his arms, reassuring, “I know.”

“But the part about me wanting you to like me,” She says.

Kylo perks up, startled by the mention of it. He didn’t mean… Well… He allows her to continue.

“You were right about that.” She finishes, not quite defeated by the admission. But surrendered to it. Accepting. 

He decides to give into his own confession, surrendering himself too. “Don’t worry,” a small grin forms at his lips as he offers himself the validation in his feelings as well as her, “I like you.”

She shyly looks away, back up to the ceiling. But the starlight is enough to reveal a soft smile on her lips, bashful, yet so happy. Kylo smiles too. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to sink back into the projections of light from her presence. 

 

No nightmares come that night. 

And when he wakes up the next morning to find her still deep in slumber, curled on her side to face him, her small hand reached down to lay over his elbow, he doesn’t move for quite a while. He just revels in the fact that none of it was a dream either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i wanted to make a happy chapter because i was writing chapter thirty nine and well... lol, i guess you'll see soon enough. thanks for reading!!!
> 
> Also this is from the original, unedited version of the poor decisions chapters, so there's a few deleted scenes here and there so that's fun! :)


	5. Anticipation (Omniscient POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Omniscent  
> Time: Inbetween Chapter 27 (Just Like Normal People Do) and Chapter 28 (Promises)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING*
> 
> Ok so this chapter could potentially be very triggering, so please take caution with reading. it's 100% an "extra" and not vital to the plot, so it's completely ok if you skip out on this one. i was really hesitant in even writing this. there is an example of underage sex, depicting the sexual relationship of a 13-year-old with and 18-year-old, so naturally manipulation and emotional abuse is prevalent. idk, also there are parts that are really just sad? if it sounds like something that could be potentially harmful to your mental health, please don't read!
> 
> thanks! <3

Agent 2319 drags light fingers across the ancient pages of the text. It’s odd that they were never converted to digital records. Her eyes flicker towards the enormous bookshelf lining the far wall of Kylo’s living space. Hardcopy texts take up a substantial amount of space. But Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, probably doesn’t prioritize that as an issue. Her eyes return back to the text, continuing to scan the words and phrases of some ancient Sith philosopher. His teachings describe hate as a powerful force to tap into, when fighting, when meditating, when practicing every part of day to day life. Mostly hate, but not limited to just that. Also lust, revenge, chaos. Her eyes flicker back up to the man across the room, now unmasked, hanging up the dark robes on a hook mounted beside his door. He looks back at her, sensing her gaze, exhibiting no sign of what the Sith lord urges it’s followers to consume themselves with. He looks at her with kindness, softness… Peace.

Kylo Ren approaches her, unable to keep a small smile at bay from the sight of her – in his room – reading his books – on his couch. “What are you reading?” He asks, reaching outwards to affectionately stoke the freshly brushed hair lying against her profile. It feels softer than he remembered. She smells particularly fresh too, recently showered. She’s opted to wear the soft linen tunics he provided her with other than the stiff, classic grey uniform of the agent. He’s so used to seeing her in the dull uniform, something new is exciting to him. The warm beige of the linen compliments her skin tone, making her seem healthier, more relaxed.

“I have no fucking idea.” She says, closing the book with a snap, and reaching for the hand extended downwards to her. She keeps his grasp steady, by holding it in place. She leans into his touch. 

Kylo indulges in the way she presses back into him, even if it is subtle, it’s so relaxing. With his free hand, Kylo reaches downward to the text to examine it, although he can already recognize it from the back cover. “Darth Bane was a wise man.” He says, curiously nudging to get her opinion on the teachings. 

She responds blandly, unconvinced, “Yeah. Seemed pretty adamant about his - uh - lifestyle.” 

Kylo nods towards the window, “He’s actually buried on this planet, if you ever wish to visit his tomb.”

Her nose scrunches – criminally adorable – at the idea. “I’d hate to accidentally summon some old Sith spirit.”

He glances back towards the shelf, “Did you read the book on that too?”

Unsure if he is playing off her sarcastic nature or not, she stands to her feet with a nervous laugh, Kylo’s hand naturally falling from her face. She changes the subject, “How was training today?”

“Standard,” Kylo answers, “I apologize if I returned later than usual.” It _was_ a standard day of training. If he’s being honest with himself, he didn’t even realize he was going over time. Time must’ve slipped from him, which doesn’t usually happen. Especially not on Starkiller or The Finalizer. In his duties there, he seems to be checking the clock at every single moment he can. 

She reassures, “I wasn’t waiting around or anything.” After saying it, she hopes it doesn’t sound sardonic. It wasn’t intended to be. Because if she’s being honest with herself, she _was_ waiting around, checking the clock every five minutes to make sure it was still ticking forward. She never would do that on Starkiller or the Finalizer. She never felt the need to there. There, she never was waiting for anything. For anyone. 

“Good,” He says, seemingly unaware of the lack of truth to her words, “Have you already eaten?”

“No,” She responds, “But if you have, it’s okay. Don’t feel obligated to get something because of me.”

He smiles once again at her politeness. It’s a side to her that he by far isn’t used to. It’s childish, in a way, her arbitrary concern. He says, making his way towards his bedroom, “I have plenty of food in the kitchen if you want start on dinner. I’m going to go get changed really quick.” He waits in the doorway for a response.

She nods, glancing to the kitchen. By the time she looks back over, he’s already in his room, the door sliding shut behind him. She sighs as she makes her way towards the eating area. There’s a block-shaped table, with similar stone counters to the counters lining the far wall. Her fingers drag across the surface of it, making note of the multiple stools pushed against it. Does he often have people over for dinner? She figures he would have to take off his mask to eat, so she answers that question for herself. 

She opens the ice box, glancing up and down the assortment of food items on the shelves. She’s familiar with what they all are. Exotic ingredients from neighboring planets, but none of which she knows how to combine to fix into full meals. For years, she’s counted on R8 to prepare her meals for her, or for her meals to be provided or purchased while on missions. She understands that meat has to be cooked. But for how long? And what is to be added to it to add flavor? Does she have to add anything to it?

She timidly grabs a slab of raw meat, packaged neatly in transparent paper. There’s no label on the packaging. Only a handwritten date, presumably indicating expiration. Trying to buy time for Kylo’s return, she places it onto the counter as slowly as possible. Then, she turns back to the fridge. Vegetables are part of a meal usually, as well. If she can at least just pick out the ingredients, Kylo will probably be back in time to prepare them. Maybe it’ll be enough to trick him into thinking that she’s not completely incapable without a babysitter of a droid. 

She left R8 in her own room, assuring him that his services will not be needed for a large majority of their stay on Korriban. But she’s so tempted to call the droid right now, to ask how to begin with these, just for the pathetic reasoning of impressing Kylo Ren. She scoffs at herself, at how ridiculous she’s being. Is this how normal relationships with normal people feel? Constantly a feat of proving oneself to their lover? Or is this just how she is, permanently? Designed and conditioned to be perfect, to be praised as such by her peers. She grabs the vegetables, setting them beside the meat. 

Perhaps she should cut the food, before worrying about cooking anything. That’ll buy her time. 

She carefully unties the neat bow wrapping the meat. She opens a few different drawers, eventually finding one with an assortment of knives. Meat probably calls for a large one, while the vegetables are cut with a smaller one. Maybe. It makes sense, she supposes.

She grabs a knife, unsheathing the blade to notice it’s serrated. The teeth in the metal specialize in sawing and cutting specifically textured materials. Agent grasps the blade’s handle in her hand, finally feeling some sort of familiarity to the environment, to what the situation calls her to do. She carefully lines the blade against the red meat, making she it’s straight before beginning to saw downwards. 

As soon as she begins, she realizes that she’s fucked up. The grooves in the knife make it harder for her to cut into the meat. Perhaps meat isn’t meant to be sawed? The meat tears into a shredded mess as she continues cutting downwards. She hopes it eventually cleans itself up, but it seems to just be getting worse. She presses down harder, adjusting her motions to be faster, her frustration aiding her in the feat. Maybe that Darth Bane guy had a point about using hatred to fuel actions, because it’s definitely helping her efficiency in this task. 

“What are you doing?” A voice interjects her action from across the room.

She freezes, glancing up to Kylo, now only in his regular black trousers and undershirt. His hair is tousled more than usual, large chunks tucked behind his ears. 

Kylo glances down to the meat, then to the knife, then back at her. Whatever amusement he has in the sight of her unawareness is immediately forced into repression when met with her ferocious, defensive glare.

“You told me to start making dinner.” She snaps, too aggressively than she means to. But she refrains from backing down from the tone. 

“Okay.” He responds simply, not knowing what else to say.

He doesn’t step around the table, taking the knife from her to do it himself, as she hopes he would. Instead he just stares back at her, waiting for her to continue, partly out of sheer curiosity that she really doesn’t know what she’s doing, partly because her hostile attitude can be somewhat intimidating. 

She continues sawing at the meat, the movements inefficient and nearly painful for Kylo to witness. 

After she finally manages to cut a strip off, all while doing everything she can to avoid eye contact with him. She moves the knife and inch over, to begin to cut off a new piece. Kylo looks down at the jagged piece she previously cut, the chaotic nature of it combined with the juices splattered around her workspace enough for him to intervene, “If you want to go ahead and wash the vegetables, I can do that.”

Her face reddens, partly left over from frustration, partly because of the embarrassment that settles in. “If you want,” She mutters, grabbing the blue-purple stalks of vegetables. 

While she turns on the faucet, Kylo quickly grabs the correct knife from the drawer, then cuts the meat into strips swiftly before she can notice his adjustments to her methods. As she runs the vegetables over the running water, she can’t help but speculate if she was supposed to wash the meat, as well. Kylo begins cutting the meat into cubes, wondering if she intended to cut it this way.

He asks, “What do you want to make?” 

She shrugs. As Kylo looks back over his shoulder to her, he can see how carefully she’s washing the vegetables, despite them only needing rinsed. She washes each stalk individually, dousing every last centimeter in water.

He smiles to himself, then turns back to what he’s doing. 

She answers, “Whatever. I don’t really ever make anything fancy. Just edible.”

He can’t help but ask her, “How often do you cook?”

“I cook.” She avoids the question.

He offers, “I can show you how to make edible things taste better, if you’d like.”

She knows he’s only phrasing it that way to spare her feelings. She knows she probably seems ridiculous, as she’s projecting every ounce of embarrassment and shame of not being able to execute normal adult, day-to-day tasks. She sucks in her right cheek, biting down, before saying, “You’ve been teaching people things all day.”

“This is different.”

“Is it?” She tests.

He replies, completely sure of himself, crystal clear, “Entirely.”

The faucet turns off. She sets the now washed vegetables on the side of the sink while standing on her toes to attempt peer over his shoulder. He finishes up and turns around quickly, hiding the fact that he switched out her choice of knife for an entirely different one. She already seems somewhat self-conscious, he doesn’t wish for her to get the impression he’s trying to make her feel inadequate. 

Before she can say anything, the sight of her alone is enough to make him duck down to kiss her on the cheek, relishing the soft skin as much as he can for the split second his lips press against it. 

Her hardened expression, once upholding a stubborn wall between them, softens at the action. She shivers slightly from the goosebumps dotting up her spine. Then, admits softly, “I didn’t wash the meat.”

He grins, “That’s okay.” 

“I didn’t know if I was supposed to do that or if when it cooks it-”

“That’s okay.” He repeats himself, cutting off her scattered rambling. He intends every kind of meaning to the phrase. Yet, she still seems slightly on edge. He asks, “Okay?”

She nods, finally the energy around her relaxing. As much as Kylo feels as if some days being so sensitive towards other’s projections is a curse, it’s in moments like this where it is seemingly worth it – to know that he was able to calm someone, to know that he was able to make someone feel something that wasn’t terror or fear or anguish. He only experiences that sensation now in training his Knights, and mostly – strongly - in Agent. Before her, such intensity was only present prior to when he left for the Jedi Temple. Sometimes moments with childhood friends. But mostly with family. When his mother and father would first greet him after a long day of slaving at whatever task their dull New Republic provided them with. He could feel that the sight of him made them happy. He made them full of love, of relief. 

Taking him out of his trance, Agent softly raises her fingers to his forearm, running them up and down the exposed skin. He sinks further into her projection.

It’s so similar to the love his parents once projected to him.

“Alright.” She says smoothly.

Kylo swallows hard and steps around her, away from her touch, to open a cabinet. “So, the meat is from an animal called erollsi, which is really sweet compared to other meats.” He grabs a handful of spices from the shelves, desperately trying to distance himself from such harmful, ridiculous thoughts of his former life – his former self. He reminds himself of the hatred they also harbored for him, the fear, the disappointment. “I usually like to use these ones when seasoning, but it really depends on personal preference. That’s what’s fun about cooking, when you get the hang of it, everything can be designed for what you like.”

She watches as reaches above for a pan. She almost asks him where he learned how to cook, just out of mindless curiosity, but then pulls back on the inquiry after determining that such skills must have been learned from previous family members. 

Reminding him of his past is the last thing she wants to do.

She looks down at his limp arm beside her as he uses his opposite arm to place the pan on the stove top, drizzling some sort of oil across the surface. 

He explains, so hyper focused on what’s in front of him, “This helps the food not stick to the surface.” 

Without making the conscious decision to do so, she returns her finger tips to his arm, feeling up and down the skin. She doesn’t know why she touches him so often, with such little intention behind it. Perhaps to prove to herself that he’s still there, that he’s actually a physical person that actually is with her. She wonders if he can feel how thankful she is for that. She hopes so.

He twitches under her touch.

 

 

The next fifteen minutes is consumed by Kylo Ren explaining – in full depth – what he’s cooking and why he’s taking each step. As Agent does her best to consume the information, for future use, she can’t help but be distracted by the nature of which he speaks. It all seems so domestic, so normal, the way he’s going on tangents about how certain vegetables change color when they are cooked fully, and how you can configure that something is being overcooked by it's hardened texture. 

She feels somewhat childish when he does quite literally all the work, and then hands the kitchen utensil – spatula, it’s called – to her to stir the ingredients for a while. If it were anyone other than Kylo teaching her how to do such things, she doesn’t know if she could care about this at all. But she figures, she won’t always have R8 to prepare her meals.

Soon, it’ll just be her and Kylo. 

This is all stuff she needs to figure out how to do. 

And the food was very good. Like something from a restaurant, she would visit. Kylo tried to make it seem as if the dish was a simple, every day dinner, but he couldn’t help but try especially hard, for the sake of impressing her. When cooking for himself, he barely puts any passion or care into what he makes. And when he does, it’s usually just to pass the time. But cooking for her, he can see himself liking the routine of it. Leia usually made nice dinners, back on Chandrila. Han would occasionally try, but it would be a mess, due to the man’s impatience. He seemed nearly as clueless as Agent. 

Kylo finished his food before her. She takes slow bites, carefully savoring each one. It doesn't help that she's partly distracted by the holodrama she’s turned on. She watches it with great intent, so incredibly focused. Yet, she doesn’t have any emotional reaction to what is happening. It’s all observation.

He nods at the projection coming from her holopad, which she set on the floor away from the couch they are sitting, “Did they actually go to the Outer Rim to film this?”

Agent answers, eyes not leaving the projection, “No, this is all digital recreation.”

Kylo hums in acknowledgement, watching the way the changing light of the projection effects the shadows of her face. She sits on the couch with her legs crossed, leaning forward. It’s definitely a contrast to the way Kylo lounges back, arm draped behind her, so if she did decide to lean back, it would be into his embrace. She hasn’t yet. But Kylo is still comfortable anyways.

Agent takes her last bite of food, not even swallowing before Kylo leans forward to stand to his feet, offering while nodding down towards the dish, “I can put that away for you.”

She hands him it, finally looking away from the holocron to meet his eyes, “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He responds, making his way towards the kitchen with their empty dishes. 

Agent observes the scenery presented in the movie. It looks so real. One who hasn’t been to the Outer Rim may believe it to be so. But the Outer Rim is so bleak, the only vibrant colors visible indicating that of poisons, of contamination. Most life from the territory was sucked out of the area by the Empire, then First Order itself. By the efforts of her. She recalls her earlier years of training, being stationed there. The people were compliant in the surrender of their resources to the Order. They had to be, with the guns shoved in their faces, with the troopers surrounding their homes. She wonders if they survived much long after their visit. If their deaths were quick, or agonizingly long. If some would struggle for years after, to only die pitifully of dehydration or starvation.

Then, she focuses back on the holodrama. How the main characters adventure through the Outer Rim as if it’s a sanctuary, a better life than the one they left. Originally, they had a life of standard jobs, standard families, standard wealth, standard security. Yet, they all wanted more. 

She didn't like the characters in this movie.

“It’s so fake.” She says to Kylo as he enters back into the room. 

He settles beside her, laying against the arm of the chair, one leg folded perpendicular to her body, other leg off of the couch. “What?”

“Have you been to that planet before? It looks nothing like it does here.” She responds, gesturing at the projection.

Kylo observes the lush landscape the holocron projects. So full of color, of vibrancy. Life. “I haven’t, I don’t recall. What does it look like in real life?”

She scoffs, “Sad.”

He runs his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face to get a better look at her. “That’s probably why they changed it, then. Who wants to watch a holodrama where everything is like real life?”

“Me.” She responds, immediately, not putting much thought to it.

He asks himself why that is. The conclusion he comes to is that she’s never had a “real life.” Perhaps these holodramas are a way for her to entertain what it would be like. Kylo wants to reassure her that he can provide so much better of a life than what she seeks in holomovies. A life with power, with riches, with everything she could possibly imagine wanting and then more. Security would be assured, a place for them to potentially start a family that could grow up healthy, happy, safe. He often fantasizes about such things the future holds for them. 

He reaches outwards, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She turns into his touch, as if she read the movement as being summoned. Emotionally as distant as she can be from the holodrama, she reverts her attention to Kylo. She leans forward, kissing him softly on the lips, lingering afterwards as an invitation for him to continue the kiss, if he chooses to. He usually does. This is no exception. He kisses her back, smoothly letting his lips rest against hers, unmoving for a moment, before pulling back to only allow her to kiss him firmer. His nose presses into her cheek with the adjustments, his hands moving to her ribs to encourage the idea of her turning her body towards him. 

She more than happily obliges, overwhelmed with the urge to melt into his form, into his presence, of which she has been so eager to see all damn day. Stars, it was a boring day. Convincing herself to be interested in ancient religious teachings is going to be absolutely impossible. She turns her body, uncrosses her legs, and pushes off the ground with her toe to position herself ontop of him, straddling his hips. It was more direct than Kylo anticipated, the sudden sensation of her weight pressing on him taking him off guard. 

As he hesitates, she takes the opportunity to push his hair back, then roughly presses lips into his once again. She’s so sure of herself, so confident in what she’s doing. Kylo just surrenders to her advances, unable to break her control, still unsure of what exactly he should be doing if he could. It doesn’t help that he’s somewhat exhausted after such a long day of training. Mentally and physically. 

Plus, it feels so nice to just let her consume him. He runs his hands up and down her sides, along the curve of her hips, encouraging. The way she moves against his body with the rhythm of her kisses, all coordinated with the intensity of her fingers digging at his scalp… It’s so effortless perfect. Like a dance, but not filled with complicated nor rehearsed choreography. So simple, but so flawless. 

With the sensation of her slipping her tongue into his mouth, he lightly hums, approving. He mirrors her tongue with his own, savoring every bit of information he can collect on her taste, her smell, the way her mouth feels. Her hands tighten on his hair, pushing him deeper into her, rolling her hips forward with even more pressure. There’s a spike in the ever-so-present yearning she’s projecting, jutting into his mind loudly, prodding. It feels good though. As he taps into, it heightens his own lust, multiplying what he already felt before. 

Encapsulated by his sharp sensitivity to it all, he can’t help but test the projection further. He sits up, pulling away from her mouth, only to place lips on her cheek, then pecking softly downwards. He inhales though his nose, relishing in her fresh, clean scent. Rubbing his face into the softness of her neck, he presses lips into the hallow collarbone, teasing the parts neighboring the curve of her neck – the part of her body that he’s determined is one of the most sensitive. She tilts her neck back, exposing more of her skin to him, the sound of her light pants above his head only fueling his motivation. He pulls closer at her waist, then places open lips into the curve of her neck. She tries not to squirm. There’s another pulsate in the Force’s projection. He bites down on the skin. She moans. He moans too, sucking on the skin. He’s careful to be gentle, but does not deny him, or her, any pleasure. She tastes so good. So clean, so warm. He wants to taste more of her, desperately overcome with the desire to let his kisses travel downwards, exploring the expanse of her body with his mouth. The fantasy makes him kiss her harder.

“Are you going to,” She inhales sharply at another one of his soft tugs at her skin. “Are you leaving a mark?”

He pulls away, examining the red, wet skin, before looking back into her eyes. “I don’t know. Am I being too rough?”

Too rough. She lightly laughs at the idea of it. Kylo Ren, ironically enough, is probably one of the most gentle, hesitant men she’s been with. She shakes her head, smiling warmly, “No, you’re not. But if you suck on the skin too long, it bruises.”

“Oh,” Kylo reaches up, softly rubbing the skin of her neck dry with his thumb, searching for any sign of bruising. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” She exhales, not letting up on her smile, “As long as it’s below where the collar on my uniform is, go for it.” 

Before he can verbally respond, she kisses him again, attempting to regain any momentum lost. Kylo knows what hickies are. He’s not that socially inept. He just didn’t know they were obtained so easily. He assumed it was from people being absolutely ravenous of each other, intentionally causing pain to add to the pleasure. He assumed they were caused by a certain level of inconsideration for one's lover.

Kylo begins kissing and biting at her neck again. He tests his limits, observing her projections made clear through the Force to see if she’s ever uncomfortable or hurt as he bites down. It’s all pleasure to her. And it’s definitely pleasurable to him, to be so persistent at her skin. But just to clarify, he pulls away to ask, “That doesn’t hurt you?”

“Trust me," She shakes her head and glances down amused, yet oddly heavy-hearted, "You’re not going to hurt me.”

He nods again, leaning back into her, this time opting to kiss her lips. His lips feel swollen now, from the pressure he was using on her neck. Yet she’s still completely energized, unphased by him practically gnawing at her flesh. He can’t help but wonder if someone has actually hurt her before, during intimate moments. There’s a guilt that comes with him being reminded of her previous lovers, but Kylo knows the thoughts aren’t in a nature that puts her in a negative light. It’s a protectiveness. An anxiety that she’s done things she didn’t want to, that she’s been in situations where she wasn’t necessarily presented with a choice of what to do, or what not to do. He wonders how much that affects her. She always seems avoid the the subject with defensiveness, naturally, so he never brings it up. He hopes she does, one day, though. He wants her to confide in him, or at least, someone. 

He wraps his arms tightly around her, ducking his head into her neck. This time there are no kisses. Just warmth. Skin pressed to skin. Still. Calm. 

Like most time when he embraces her, she reaches up to stroke his hair. He likes the way her nails scratch lightly at his scalp. He likes the way she is careful not to tangle, nor pull any of the hair. Her voice is gentle when it asks, “Is something on your mind?”

He mumbles into her skin, “Just you.”

“What about me?” She keeps the blush to herself, aside from her tone.

He doesn’t answer immediately. He only recounts what he’s actually thinking about, in this moment. There’s the physicality of how nice she feels to hold. Then there’s the parts of him that are impressed with her strength, her intelligence, her disposition. But then there’s the caring, the worrying, the anticipation for the future, the heavy feelings. Not all necessarily bad. Just heavy. He doesn't think he pities her. That doesn't seem right. Nonetheless, there's a great sorrow that comes with the reality of her past, of her current condition. One he cannot shake. He nuzzles his head further into her shoulder, “I just like you.”

Her hand pauses in his hair. She usually is humored by such childish remarks. But this time, she only responds with a soft, “I like you too.”

It sounds so genuine, so real. But still, there’s a part of Kylo that’s reminded what affection ends with in his life. Rejection, betrayal, hatred. But mostly loss. He holds onto her tighter. He wants so badly to believe that she’s different. She hasn’t given him any reason to think otherwise. It wouldn’t be fair for him to put her in same box as those who left him before.

She remains in his embrace but pulls away just enough to press her forehead to his. Her hand comes upward, caressing his face, thumb rubbing at the delicate skin under his eye. “Are you tired?” She asks quietly.

Before he can think to lie, an effort to get her to stay, he subconsciously nods. He’s very tired.

Agent hides her disappointment in the answer flawlessly. She kisses him briefly on the lips before pulling back and gently saying, “You should go to bed.”

He shakes his head, leaning back into her to kiss her again. 

She continues it for a while, for long enough that Kylo gets back into the rhythm and feeling of it, before she breaks the connection once again.

Agent kisses his cheek, saying against his skin, “I don’t want to keep you up.”

“I want you to keep me up.” He mumbles, attempting to kiss her again.

She avoids the advance, pulling back. “No, really, it’s late. You seem like you had a long day.”

He sighs, lying back, examining the sight of her so casually on top of him. His hands move lightly up and down her thighs. He could probably fall asleep right now, if he tried. He really just wants her to lay down on top of his chest, as he holds her against him, submitting himself to slumber. He always thinks about that.

She grabs one of his hands as they move upward, pressing her lips to his knuckles, before she climbs off of him. She’s somewhat saddened that he is so tired already, considering she’s been laying around all day, practically doing nothing. 

She glances at her comm-link she placed on the table beside the couch. The device that once interrupted them, she now finds herself glancing to often. She wonders when the Order will call her next, or if they won’t while she’s assigned to Kylo Ren. She hates that she anticipates it, that there’s so much discomfort in not doing anything, in not constantly going on missions or training. She hates that in the boredom, she finds herself preferring what the Order usually bids her to do. It’s a dark thought. 

Kylo sits up as well, watching her grab the comm-link, then glance at the door. She waits for him to stand from the cushions as well, so they can say goodbye. 

He doesn’t get up though. 

“What?” Agent asks him, as he remains still, only staring.

He resets his jaw, wondering if it’s too soon to ask. What if she doesn’t want to stay the night with him? What if him asking will make her feel obligated? He goes through these questions every night, before they part ways. He remains silent, opting to grab her hand. He taps into his impulsive nature, opting to hint at what he’s too cowardly to say, “I miss you, at night.”

“I-” The confession takes her off guard. It also takes her off guard how articulate, how direct he is with what she’s been feeling at night as well. As soon as she finds herself in the dormitory bed, she wishes most for his warmth, for his embrace, as well. The thoughts aren’t always sexual, she doesn’t think. It feels too emotional for that. “I miss you, as well.”

He looks up at her, with large brown eyes at her command. He tries to make the words as nonchalant as possible, pushing down any anxiety or excitement or fear, “You’re welcome to stay here, if you wish.”

The request, despite it being something Agent often fantasizes about, initially overwhelms her with self-consciousness. She doesn’t know if the request is just for her to sleep with him, or for her to _sleep_ with him. Should she even care? She thinks she’s ready for both. She was yesterday, before General Hux interrupted. And Kylo is also tired, tonight. Maybe he prefers if she did a majority of the work, maybe he wishes to be for relief tonight, more than most. 

“You don’t have to,” He assures, holding her hand tighter. He picks up on her hesitation through her projection and nearly wants to hurl himself out of the window. His thumb rubs careful circles into her knuckles, anxiously.

“No, I want to,” She gulps, before she can change her mind.

He stands to his feet, saying politely, but unable to refrain from exhaling in relief, “Okay,” He smiles nervously, before leaning down to kiss her temple, “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

She nods, following him into the bedroom. A shower. If she was having second guesses before, she’s definitely not now. Many men she’s been with take a shower right before sexual encounters they were not planning for. She supposes it’s polite, at least, for her sake. She glances at the bed, staring at the dark, silk sheets. In zoning out, she reflects on how much she hates the unwelcomed nervousness. When she’s distracted, in the moment of kissing or feeling him, she’s always open to the idea of taking things further. Why does it feel so intimidating now? 

Agent glances at the closed bathroom door. She can hear the water start to run. 

She then climbs into the bed, laying on top of the covers. She still is very taken aback by how blunt he was with the request. So unlike him. He rarely is an initiator. Tons of goosebumps dot across her arms while millions of things run through her head, asking herself what he will prefer her to do, how slowly she should progress through each stage, how quickly she should progress through others. She shivers, turning on her side. The anticipation is usually the worst part, she tells herself. She tries to get herself in a mindset that fantasizes about him, about how he would handle her, about what he looks and acts like so vulnerable, but her anxiety seems to shut any part of that out. 

It will get better after just this time, the first time.

First time.

As she’s curled up, on one side of the bed, Kylo in the other room, she can’t help but draw the resemblance to her first time. She feels guilty for recounting the event, so close to when she’s about to be intimate with someone, for real. But her mind falls so easily into the trap, given the circumstance.

_Lieutenant Leven took his shower after they were finished, leaving Agent 2319 to lay on his mattress reflecting on the experience, evaluating her performance. What she did well, what she should have done better. She had no doubt that Leven would tell her his thoughts after he returned from the shower. He seemed to dig into her every chance he could get, finding something wrong that needed fixing. This wouldn’t be different. The sheets smelled like him. Clean, but in a chemical way. Like soap meant for washing metals and stone. Not skin, nor flesh._

_Flesh. She reached downward, touching herself gently. Spreading her sore legs to do so felt like a task in of itself. When her fingers made contact with the raw skin, all she felt was disgust. She didn’t want to look at it, unsure if the liquid coating her fingers would be blood, or semen, or lubricant her body created naturally. Probably all three. She slid off of the bed, walking across Leven’s bedroom to walk into the kitchen. The sink there would have to do. She’s far too apprehensive to go into the bathroom he’s occupying at the moment. She pondered the idea of joining him in the shower, briefly. But only on the terms of him inviting her. He didn’t. As she grabbed a disposable cloth from the basket, she wiped herself clean, looking away at the sight of her womanhood. She then disposed of the cloth and returned to the bedroom. Her clothes were neatly folded on the dresser, next to the place where she stripped for him._

_It just had happened, but it felt so long ago, already. His eyes scanning her body, mouth drawn in a thin line. He seemed unimpressed, bored with what he saw. As she walked back to the bedroom, she looked down at the way her body looked as it moved. Then, she found herself staring at her silhouette in the mirror mounted on the door. She wished certain parts of her could be more developed, while others would shrink. She wished she could mold and adjust her proportions herself, as if her body was made of clay. She noticed the bruises already prevalent on her thighs, where he grabbed at her flesh, pulling, stretching. Bruises on her neck. Then red splotches on her bottom._

_She told herself, during the encounter and while she stared at her reflection, that he didn’t hurt her. She has gone through much worse. She has been conditioned, tortured, and trained to not respond to pain. This was nothing. Merely discomfort, at it’s worse. She grabs her clothing from the dresser’s surface, finding comfort in the way they cover her once exposed body. Her frame, no longer subject to the harsh light or Leven’s harsh gaze. Undergarmets first, then outerwear. She is careful to make sure that everything is in check. Carefully straightened, perfectly pressed. There are some wrinkles from the way the clothes were folded. But nothing too major. She’d be able to make it back to her room without any second looks._

_The water stops._

_She could hear his footsteps, how they sloshed against the water gathered at his shower, and how they seemed heavier when they meet the tile of the bathroom floor. The steps paused. She took note of how quick his shower was. He must’ve only rinsed off._

_The door opened._

_He was in a towel, chiseled torso and broad bare chest glistening. Her attention was brought immediately to the mole on his lower abdomen – the only discrepancy on his otherwise unblemished body. His eyes looked her up and down, then he raised an eyebrow, “You normally rest in your uniform?”_

_The question confused her. “I’m not sure what you are asking me.”_

_His eyes scanned her once again before he approached her. She stood up straighter, anticipating. But he ended up walking past her and to his dresser. He pulled out undergarments, then a tee shirt. After setting the undergarments on top of the dresser, he tossed the black tee shirt to her, offering, “More comfortable, perhaps?”_

_She felt the cotton of the shirt in between her fingers. There was something oddly intimate about wearing his clothes. She didn’t know what exactly it could be. So, she pondered it as she began stripping once again, avoiding the sight of her body in the mirror, avoiding the information of whether or not he was looking at her. The silence reminded her that he asked her a question, she did not yet answer. She spoke, “I did not realize your intention was for me to rest here.”_

_“I didn’t know how long we’d take, so I notified your droid that you’d be on a retreat for the night.”_

_Her stomach flopped at the fact that he lied to R8. Can he do that? Is he high enough in the ranks of the Order to do that? The small scandal of their affair made her skin crawl. What kind of trouble could she get in if someone were to find out? Would he be punished as well?_

_He slipped on the undergarments using the towel that once covered his torso to dry his hair. The blonde hair came out tousled, framing his face in a way she was unfamiliar. It was odd to see him without it groomed so nearly, held into place carefully with gel. “Are you opposed to sleeping with me?” There was a slight smirk that came with his question._

_She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or flirting with her. She blushed either way. “Of course not, Sir.”_

_“I promise to leave you some of the blanket.” He charmingly slid under the covers of the bed, propping his arms up behind his head._

_That was a joke, she thought. She smiled and politely laughed, joining him under the covers. She liked the way his tee shirt felt on her. Her clothes were always tailored, perfectly fitting. But his shirt didn’t fit at all, wonderfully. She liked that he let her wear it, instead of having to sleep naked or in the uniform. It was kind of him._

_She turned her body towards his as he turned his body away, to press at a panel at his bedside. He turned the lights off, leaving them mostly in the dark. There was a small light lining the ceiling that made him visible, everything cool-toned and blue. She examined how the shadows of his bare chest and arms complimented his figure. Then, as he laid on his back, her eyes traveled up to his profile. Sharp. Symmetrical. He is a handsome man._

_He turned his head towards hers, speaking, “I’m waking up at five-hundred tomorrow. That should work with your schedule fine, correct?”_

_She nodded, “That’s when I wake up, as well.”_

_“Very well.” He said simply, closing his eyes. She couldn’t help but over-examine the distance between them. He was close enough to smell, to analyze, to reach out and touch, but he wasn’t close enough to her liking. She recalled holodramas she watched where lovers would press bodies against one another during the night. She wondered often how it would feel to sleep with someone. Would it feel inconvenient? Or warm? Would she feel self-conscious? Or less lonely?_

_She turned over, facing the other direction, to curve her body in a way to which Leven could easily fit his to hers. Leven… She wondered what his first name was and if anyone called him it. She waited, staring at the wall, to only find that his breath was getting smooth. He was falling asleep._

_Selfishly, Agent 2319 blurted the question out solely to keep him awake, “Do all men prefer sleeping beside their mate after such encounters, Sir?”_

_He mumbled a tired response, “It depends. You anticipate too much in situations that do not call for preparation. Part of being an agent is the ability to adapt.”_

_She didn’t like that answer. “Anticipation aids adaptation.” She mumbled back. She didn’t realize how sarcastic and out of line it was to say such a thing until she replayed her words in her mind. She nearly cringed at herself, wondering if using such a tone with him would provide her with a punishment._

_He gave her an answer he knew she would prefer. Clearer, more direct, “Men prefer convenience, more often than not. If it is convenient to sleep beside you, which it often may be, they most likely will.”_

_So, she concluded that she was here staying the night only out of convenience. Not that she wanted him to want her for other reasons. That would be stupid. She closed her eyes, scooting closer to him, making it even easier for him to touch her. Men prefer convenience._

_As her eyes closed, she couldn’t help but go back over every detail of it for the millionth time. She didn’t find it sexually pleasurable, ever, she didn’t think. She wasn’t quite sure she understood what sexual pleasure felt like or how it was obtained on her own body. But it wasn’t completely uncomfortable and miserable. There were moments where she liked it, even. She went through those moments in her head, listing them off._

_First off, when he kissed her on the lips for the first time. It was about fifteen minutes (she would assume) after the actual intercourse began. He changed positions, placing her on his lap, and kissing her briefly before he thrusted upwards, continuing what already begun. But that tiny moment, where he kissed her… His lips were soft, so sure of themselves. It felt like they fit into hers nicely. They were rewarding, they were conscious of her. That was her first kiss. She slowly brought her fingertips up to her lips, testing the nerves of the skin to see if she herself could duplicate the sensation. She couldn’t._

_He kissed her one other time, right before he finished. That time, she couldn’t focus as much on the kiss because of his speed. And she was focusing on other things. Things like the way he looked at her. So needy, so full of… something. She wasn’t sure what it was, but he was looking at her and feeling something immensely and that was so particularly nice. His eyes were half shut, mouth parted, breath heavy. He never moaned, but sometimes, he made sounds when he breathed. Little whimpers, barely audible. But she heard._

_She had an effect on him. She liked that._

_A lot of times in training, she wondered if he was so hard on her because he respected her, because he believed she could take it more than the other trainees. He never treated any of the other agents as harshly as he treated her. Maybe, she was special to him. Agent knew that she shouldn’t romanticize any relationships, friendships, or anything in her life. But this was different. He trained her. He’s a well-respected Lieutenant. She looked up to him, aspired to have his strength, his vigor. She glanced over her shoulder at the man, his eyes closed, lying still on his back. She prayed to something, to anything that he was still awake. Or that perhaps in his sleep, he would reach out to her._

_She turned her body towards him once again. He rustled in the sheets._

_“Do you…” She forced the words out, trying to form a question, an invitation._

_“Speak up.” He impatiently ordered, yet not with the regular intensity of his voice. He was far too tired to be overly assertive with the girl. Especially since she kept insisting on asking him questions, right as sleep was about to take over his body._

_She started again, trying to find more courage as she spoke, “Do you ever touch girls after you engage in sexual intercourse?”_

_He laughed at this. What kind of question is that? He opened his eyes to find hers staring back up at him, embarrassed, yet so insistent on receiving an answer. Does he ever “touch” girls after he fucks them? “You’re going to have to be more specific.”_

_“After you engage in sexual intercourse, do you continue to be physical with the girls, if they’re staying the night?” She clarifies. In her head, it was so clear, what she was asking._

_He squinted his eyes at her, wondering what suddenly possessed her to ask such an foolish thing, “Sometimes, we’ll have more sex. It merely depends.” He raises his eyebrow, “Do you want more sex?”_

_She shook her head, becoming frustrated with her inability to put it into words. Is there a word for what she’s trying to describe? She rambled, “I was only inquiring if you touch the girls, not necessarily on the genitals, or even breasts, but just like – touch them on their waists and hands and hips – and you just rest them there and then-”_

_This is what she found so necessary to ask him? He sighed, impossibly more exhausted than he previously was, “You’re wondering if I cuddle after I have sex?”_

_She never heard that word before. His condescending tone made her shrink up inside of herself, any confidence she built up to ask the question now completely diminished._

_“Once again,” He answered, “It depends.”_

_“On what?”_

_“If I want to.”_

_She stared up at him, waiting._

_Leven was incredibly drained. And he didn’t necessarily want to deal with accommodating her sleeping needs. So, if she wanted to cuddle with him, or whatever the hell she was getting at, she might as well just take this as a lesson that she shouldn’t expect such gentle intimacy. That’s not how it will be in the real world. Men will be harsher than he was, men will be crueler. She’ll have plenty of chances to get her feelings hurt for better reasons then him not wanting to fucking cuddle. He asked, making his agitation as evident in his tone as he could, “Is that all?”_

_She briskly answered, "Yes, Sir." She immediately her back to him to face the wall._

_Leven fluffed the pillow from underneath his head and exhaled loudly before closing his eyes to try to sleep for the third time that night._

_Agent held the blanket tightly around her, eyes still very much open, boring into the wall. She endlessly talked herself out of the fact her feelings were hurt. She tried not to think of why he wouldn’t want to “cuddle” with her. But she couldn’t stop herself. What did she do wrong? She thought, at least, he found the experience pleasurable enough. She thought that if it were graded, she would have passed.  
She hated the air between them, so cold, as the blanket stretches across the landscape of their bodies as if it were a tent. She just wanted to close the distance. More than anything she’s ever wanted. She wanted him to kiss her on the lips again, for him to hold her body in a way that didn’t make her feel embarrassed about the way she’s developed, for him to want to touch her in a way that didn’t feel like he was reaching for something else. _

_She hated that she felt like she was about to cry. Crying is something that she has definitely gotten better at stopping. But every time she did have nights where she breaks down, it’s a horrifying reminder that maybe she isn’t getting better. Maybe, she wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe, she’ll be an awful agent, better off in the stormtrooper program. Tears fell down her cheeks silently, steadily. Is this what she’ll feel like with all the men she’s with? Or is it just because it’s the Lieutenant? Why does she care so much about what he thinks? About whether or not he wishes to do the same things she does? Why does she care when she's supposed to not care about anything, anyone? Only the Order... Live for the Order, die for the Order. Nothing else matters. Nothing else matters. Nothing else matters._

_In her sadness, she only found herself wanting his presence more desperately. She tried not to audibly sniff as she reached up and wipe away her tears. His consistent breathing patterns must mean he’s asleep. So she carefully turned her body back over towards his, examining his snoozing figure. He looked so much kinder asleep. His face was relaxed, younger. Sometimes, she forgot that he was also a kid to many people. She didn’t see eighteen as terribly old. She was almost fourteen, so soon, they'll only be four years apart._

_Carefully, she reached outwards, brushing the blonde hair from his face. Did she touch his hair at all during the sex? She didn’t recall. It’s softer than she thought it would be. Still damp from his shower. Curiously, her hand did not pull away. She kept it at his face, against the texture of the stubble. She was gentler than she’s ever been with anything ever, to be sure he didn’t wake. She glanced down at the plump lips, so seemingly soft, so incredibly relaxed. She relished in the idea of kissing him, knowing she could in that moment if she really wanted._

_Guilt crept upon her. Is it wrong for her to kiss him, while he sleeps? She was well aware that he wouldn’t want to kiss her. So would the action be immoral, disgraceful? She reminded herself of the way he grabbed her, so possessive, so demanding, inconsiderate even. She gave him so much, so willingly._

_She wanted to get something she wanted too._

_She tilted her head upwards, parting her lips and brushing them against his. It was odd that he was completely still, due to his slumber, but it still felt nice and soft and comforting. Agent liked it. She backed away from his face, sliding her head down to his shoulder. Her nose grazed his skin with her movements, lips taking in how smooth he was. She rested her head there. She could hear his heartbeat against her ear. Her head moved with the rise and fall to his chest, according to his breathing._

_It was so incredibly intimate._

_It was just like she hoped it to be._

_Her toes curled in wonder at the feeling, desperate for him to reach an arm up, to hold her even closer. She wanted to touch more of him, to drag her fingers across the curves of the muscles of his chest, to kiss his neck, but not how he kissed hers - gentler, lazier. She wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand. How long could they go before their fingers cramped? Before their palms accumulated too much sweat? His hands are probably considerably larger than hers. Would that still be comfortable?_

_Suddenly, he stirred, mouth parting open to let out a small snore._

_Startled, she jumped off of him, turning her back to him once again._

_What was she even doing?_

_She didn’t turn back towards him that night, talking herself out of engaging in such childish, weak fantasies. Doing that was stupid. She was stupid._

_She didn’t end up sleeping that night either, just lying next to him, away from him, closing her eyes and waiting until the alert from his bedside console woke him up. She dressed herself swiftly, then left. The only thing he said to her was a brief reminder that her class was meeting early for weightlifting before combat training. She thanked him for the reminder, then left._

And in the future, even when men would prefer to sleep with arms draped across her body, legs hooked across hers, face nuzzled into her shoulder, it all eventually began to feel the same as sleeping a foot away from Leven. Disconnected, distracting… But distant, most of all. Arms of which she wished so desperately to feel protective felt more like prison, not holding her. Trapping her. Reminders of the events that proceeded them lying together.

The shower water stops running. Agent turns towards the door to Kylo Ren’s bathroom. She could hear how his feet slosh against the water at the shower’s floor. They sound heavier as he travels onto the tile. The door doesn’t open immediately. For more time, she is left her alone with her thoughts, with the expectancy of what is about to happen. Men prefer convenience, she reminds herself. She anticipates too much for things that anticipation does not provide any aid. Adaptability. She wonders, for the first time ever, if she is ready. She should be. With him, more than anyone.

She glances at the door. It opens.

He walks forward, already in long dark pants and a grey undershirt. Pajamas. He brings towel up to his head, shaking his hair out. She notices how even when wet, it looks so similar to it’s natural state – untamed, unruly. He returns her stare, the hint of a smile coming through in his generous tone, “Do you like to sleep on top of the covers?”

She glances down, somewhat confused. Sleep? Did he really just mean that he only wanted to sleep with her?

“It’s fine if you do,” He quickly assures. Her confused response takes him aback. Maybe the temperature is too warm. Maybe, she wants her own blanket. He has one in the living area, if needed.

He almost goes to fetch it, but is interrupted before he gets the chance, “No,” She stammers, “I was just waiting for you.”

He laughs casually. That seems like a rather odd thing to do. He reaches to pull back the covers as she slides off the bed, allowing him to do so. “You didn’t have to wait for me.” He teases, climbing into the bed. 

She lightly shrugs, “I know.”

She lies down on her back, letting a steady stream of air release from her mouth. She's notably stiff. 

Kylo wonders if she likes to be touched during sleep, or not. Maybe it’s an inconvenience to her. Shit. She seems uncomfortable. He taps into the projection, but finds nothing. It's a slate blank, but noticeably erased. Shit. He lies on his back as well, next to her, but not close. They just finished making out. Why does touching her feel so nerve racking now? He asks, voice tight. "How do you normally sleep?"

"Uh," She doesn't know if there's a right or wrong answer to this. So she answers honestly, "On my side, usually." She turns on her side, facing the other direction. Her eyes bore into the wall, the air surrounding them heavy. She can't help but wonder if he's even going to reach out to her. Or worse, if he does and she'll feel nothing.

Kylo studies the silhouette of her figure from how the covers drape over her. Her body curls in a way to where he would fit perfectly. His knees could go under hers, his chest to her back, his arm freed to wrap around her waist or hips. What does he do with the other arm? He adjusts himself in the bed, to lay on his side as well, arm closest to the mattress straightened down. Now, it's in the way, blocking him from her. 

She feels Kylo rustling so much beside her and can't help but glance over her shoulder to find him testing where to rest his arm - under his head or his arm straight down at his side or somewhere awkwardly inbetween. 

He briefly makes eye contact with her, now feeling the need to provide explanation. He can only swallow hard, mumbling, "I don't know where to put this."

She can't help but smile at the sentence. She glances down to his arm at his side, then at his body curved in a way that would perfectly suit hers, if it wasn't for his stiff limb inbetween them. She doesn't recall where he should rest it, nor know what would be most comfortable. She asks, "How do _you_ normally sleep?"

That completely doesn't matter to him at the moment. "Badly," He responds, dry. 

She laughs, naturally turning so she can reach down to grab his hand. It wasn't intended to be an initiation. Just a force of habit. 

He squeezes her hand, thanking her for the gesture, then scoots forward. As she turns her body back towards the wall, she lifts herself from the mattress slightly, his arm naturally falling down as she pulls from her grasp. As her body meets the mattress again, his arm is under her waist. 

Then, as he scoots towards her again, everything fits convientally the way he envisioned. His legs bent to mirror hers, chest to back, head slightly shifted above hers. His left arm reaches across her body, right arm bending into a more comfortable position underneath her. His arms pull her into him, against his relaxing frame. He feels her sigh, breath just barely unsteady.

"Is this... Okay?" He asks, hoping she's comfortable, because god knows he could fall asleep just like this in under a minute. He loves how close she is, how much space they share on the bed. How they'll be like this for hours. How despite being unconscious, unaware, sleeping, they'll still be so close to eachother.

She presses her body against his, her arms bending upwards to feel his forearms. Her delicate fingertips tickle his skin, but it's oddly relaxing. "Yeah," She whispers, "I like this."

Relief shoots throughout his body, "I do too." He leans down, intimately pressing his lips to the back of her head. Her hair smells so nice. Her body is so comfortably warm. His arms tighten around her, practically hugging at this point. He anticipated moments like this so much, but could never have imagined it being this purely blissful. Could this be what most nights are from here on out? Ending like this? It seems too good to be true. He hopes it isn't. He thought sleeping was difficult before, he doesn't know how he'd be able to manage it alone now, knowing how it feels to be beside her.

He closes his eyes, sinking into all she's projecting...

It's that strong feeling of admiration. It's comfort. It's pure. It's relief. It's flows with the movement of a river, not chaotic one, but one that moves steadily. Where if one lied on their back, their body would be cradled by the small waves created. Not thrown about roughly, not pulled under. But traveling peacefully, water assisting - not controlling - movements. The projection barely creates the hue of orange at the back of his eyelids. The small resemblance of light encapsulates him, and he allows himself to melt into the projection, surrendering his mind to the Force. For once, it doesn't feel as though it's a battle with what the Force is showing him. Right now, it's a collaboration. It's peace.

She silently whispers, "Thank you." It's barely audibly, as if she didn't want him to hear unless he was still completely awake.

He nuzzles his nose into her hair, "For what?"

She doesn't answer him. 

They fall asleep quickly after. Besides, a verbal answer would be unnecessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!!! so i know it's been forever (again!) hopefully the fact that this was so long, on top of the next chapter of the main fic (which is gonna be long as well opps) being almost complete, makes up for it. idk, we shall see.
> 
> I really wanted to upload chapter 40 first, but wow, writing chpt 40 has been DRAINING. idk man, it's never been emotionally exhausting to write something until that one. i needed to write something else, just to take a break, and this happened to be it! i hope it's not too long, or too boring or too dark. plus it's been in my head forever. tbh, i was considering not uploading it just because of it's more sensitive nature, but i figured that some people might like the insight ? idk, but either way, thanks so much for sticking around!! i appreciate it immensely!


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